


Taking Offense

by Too_Short_for_My_Own_Good



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Intelligent Harry, Manipulative Dumbledore, Multi, Well-Meaning Dumbledore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 11:03:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 44,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7932208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Too_Short_for_My_Own_Good/pseuds/Too_Short_for_My_Own_Good
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gideon and Fabian Prewett Flooed the Aurors instead of the Order for help. Now they're angry and there's hell to pay. Regulus Black is alive and collecting horcruxes. Amelia Bones is storming the Ministry. Harry Potter is learning martial arts from a muggle librarian. Dumbledore is going either dark or senile. What exactly are the Headmaster's dangerous plans?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Surviving is Sheer Dumb Luck

A small, scrawny boy in ragged, grossly oversized clothing was running through the school halls, trying hard not to be seen. He had raven black hair that was standing in all directions, and dark bags under his vividly green eyes. A deep red scar was cut into his forehead, shaped oddly like a lightning bolt. Under his arm was a torn, dirty book bag that appeared to have a large muddy footprint on it. There was a red bruise on his left cheek, and his hands were scraped up. Regardless of the boy's wild appearance, however, none of the teachers or other students in the halls seemed to notice him. The few observant students who did quickly turned and hurriedly walked the other way.

This boy was Harry Potter, and he was being hunted. 'Harry hunted', actually, by his pig of a cousin, Dudley Dursley, and his cousin's friends. Harry Hunting consisted of Dudley's gang chasing after Harry and then beating him black and blue. They always made sure to do it away from a teacher, and if another student reported them, that student would receive the same treatment. This kind of activity happened quite often to Harry by cause of Dudley, but he could never complain to anyone about it.

Harry's parents were long dead; he didn't even know their names. He resided at #4 Privet Drive, with his Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and aforementioned cousin, Dudley. Harry could proudly call the cupboard under the stairs as his own, for that was the only thing he knew of that the Dursleys seemed content to let him have. He was often shoved in there after something strange happened; and strange things often happened around Harry Potter.

Harry wished something strange would happen now; he could Dudley's gang getting closer. The eight year old thought desperately of what he could do. As he ran, he passed a closed door that read: library.

Ahhh…perfect. Dudley and his gang always made sure to avoid the library like the plague. Harry practically dove through the door, shutting it quickly and resting against it. He only realized he had been holding his breath when Dudley finally went storming past the door.

With the danger gone, Harry slowly made his way across the empty library, sliding his bag onto a table and finding a seat. He quietly said hello to the librarian as he passed.

"The new shipment arrived this morning." Ms. Anthony told him matter-of-factly, peering at him over her large, round glasses. He nodded his thanks and took off for the backroom of the library.

Ms. Anthony was a small, wry little lady with huge glasses that made her eyes appear as big as lemons. She was really very pretty, but her glasses hid her face so much it was sometimes hard to tell. She had helped Harry the first time he had hidden in the library, and they had quickly become fast friends through their shared love of books.

Even though Harry was only eight years old, he already spent almost all of his free time in the library; usually because he was hiding from Dudley. Since he spent all his time around books, it only made sense that he spent all his time reading them, too. Harry had already read, reread, and re-reread every book the library had to offer. Thus, Ms. Anthony would loan books from neighboring branches or send out for new shipments.

Harry ruffled through the top box, flipping through the books. He'd read that one…that one too…he didn't need to read that right now…

His fingers brushed against a small, old book at the bottom. He pulled it out so he could see it better. A Simple Guide to Martial Arts, he mused. There was no information on the back cover, so he decided to flip through the first couple pages.

Three hours later he had asked Ms. Anthony to order every available book of martial arts. She did, and then gave him something even better.

"Mr. Potter." She started. "I've found from experience that it is impossible to correct your, frankly, horrid home life, no matter what I've tried. I see you've discovered martial arts; that's very good. Yes, I can order you more books, there are a few floating around. But, you know," here she paused and lowered her eyes uncomfortably. "I wouldn't normally offer, but seeing as I think you need it…" she took a deep breath before meeting his gaze again. "I used to take karate classes when I was little. It's been a while, but I should remember the moves and techniques with time and practice. If you like, I could help you learn?"

Harry was so happy he wanted to hug her. But his relatives had ensured that he never touched them, and so he didn't know what to do.

"Thank you, Ms. Anthony." He said sincerely. "I'd really like that."

~§~

Seven years earlier…

In the middle of the English countryside was a rather large house, unusual even by wizard standards. This place was called Prewitt's Folly, and was a large, rickety, mansion-type house run entirely by magic. All of the rooms were constantly moving around (with the exception of the kitchen, the first study, and the third bedroom on the left). Doorways would change sizes when you least expected it, shrinking just enough for you to bang your head as you walked through. Windows would refuse to open, then suddenly crash together and pinch your fingers in the frames.

The furniture had a tendency to go on walkabouts, and some of the wardrobes liked to disguise themselves. Curtains and drapes would open and close with no warning, and doors would randomly slam shut. The mirrors would all criticize a person's appearance whenever they were paid any attention, and the portraits lining the halls would try and draw you into conversations as you walked by. Rugs would wrinkle themselves, shoes would leave footprints across the floor, and animated mops would leave slippery wet spots where you least expected it.

The owners of this strange house were also quite strange, though not necessarily by wizard standards. Gideon and Fabian Prewett were identical twins, and both were well-known as very powerful wizards. At the moment, both brothers were relaxing; that is, they were relaxing as much as one can when at war. The twins were Aurors, and with Death Eaters attacking every other day, they'd been kept quite busy. The week before, however, hadn't been filled with time at the Ministry.

The Prewett brothers were members of a somewhat-not-so-secret organization called the Order of the Phoenix, an anti-Death Eater group led by Albus Dumbledore. The previous week had seen the brothers on a mission, trying to pinpoint Lord Voldemort's exact location. They'd been somewhat successful, capturing a total of nine prominent Death Eaters, but had failed in discovering the Dark Lord.

Gideon had his feet kicked up on the coffee table. He was flipping haphazardly through an old copy of The Daily Prophet, trying to catch up on what they had missed during the past week. Fabian was ruffling through the kitchen cupboards, searching for something to eat that didn't have anything living on it.

Gideon tossed the newspaper onto the table with a heavy sigh. "Well, The Prophet's useless. Nothing but trash."

Fabian turned from the box of crackers he was currently exploring. "Did you at least find out if anyone else is dead?"

"No one we know."

"Well, that's something. Cracker?"

"You're hopeless."

Fabian shrugged. "All the more for me. Wonder when Dumbledore will come for debriefing?"

"He said he'd stop by sometime tomorrow." Gideon answered, picking up the paper again and skimming through it once more. "Not sure why he can't make it tonight. We couldn't find Voldemort, but we did take out a large hunk of his followers. Dumbledore should be pretty happy."

Fabian snorted, setting the crackers on the countertop. "Yeah. He'll just do that creepy eye twinkle and the grandpa look and go 'my dear boys, was it really that hard to find the dark lord?' I swear, that man has expectations a mile high, and yet he never really seems surprised when we all fail. Searching for Voldemort's direct location is just a waste of time, if you ask me. Even if we found him, we knew it was practically a suicide mission. And Dumbledore wouldn't do a thing about it. He'd take three months just to 'make a plan' and 'think things through' and 'give them time to repent'." Fabian snorted and shook his head dejectedly. "Gid, do you really think it's worth it?"

Gideon lowered the paper to look at his brother. "Hmm?"

"Being in the order. Following Dumbledore. Becoming light."

"What do you mean? You'd rather be a fence sitter like of all the other grey families? Shall we pop by the Greengrasses, ask for some tips on how to best please both sides?"

Fabian tossed a cracker crumb at his twin. "No. I just think that, by ourselves, we could actually be doing something. Being in the Order isn't working like we'd hoped."

Gideon methodically folded the newspaper into a square before setting it on the table. He looked Fabian square in the eye.

"I think—" There was a loud crash from outside. Both twins glanced at the window.

"Do you-?"

"Yeah. Let's—"

"Ok."

They drew their wands and moved to look out the window. The dark night hid almost everything, but the five dark shapes quickly approaching the house were obvious. One of the masked figures raised his wand at the house.

"DUCK!" Gideon shouted, pushing his brother down as the door exploded. "Quick, get the Floo, call the Aurors!"

~§~

Gideon Prewett woke in a soft bed with a white sheet. The room he was in was very clean and very bright. He sat up slowly, arms trembling, and looked around.

His brother, Fabian, was sleeping in a bed next to him with a bandage on his cheek. The room they were in was white and sparkling. There were a few shelves stocked with potions in the corner, and several sections of the room were curtained off, including where they were. It was open just enough that Gideon could see the general aspects of the place.

He groaned, laying back down on the pillow. Even resting, he found himself still trembling. His entire body ached terribly, and he had a throbbing headache.

"Fabian." He called quietly. "Fabian, wake up."

His brother stirred, but didn't wake.

"Fabian!"

"Wha?" Fabian woke with a grunt. He turned groggily toward Gideon, but winced suddenly and let out a small whimper.

"How manly of you, whimpering like a girl." Gideon teased. "Listen, any idea why we're in St. Mungo's?"

Fabian blinked in pain, then gazed around the curtained off room.

"M' not sure…were we attacked?" He tentatively touched his bandaged cheek.

The curtain was suddenly brushed aside to reveal a haggard looking healer.

"You're awake." She said bluntly.

"That we are, ma'am." Gideon agreed. "May I ask why we're here, exactly?"

She brushed aside his question much like she had the curtain. Pulling out a clipboard and turning to Fabian, she said, "Overexposure to the Cruciatus, one knife wound, two broken ribs, and three shallow wounds from a cutting curse." She turned to Gideon. "Overexposure to the Cruciatus, four abrasions, one minor laceration, one knife wound, and several bruises." She scribbled something down on the clipboard, then finally glanced at the twins. "You were attacked by Death Eaters, Mr. and Mr. Prewett. If not for the timely arrival of the Aurors, you would now be dead." She put down the clipboard and went to the potions self.

She grabbed several vials, and then returned to the twins. Offering them the bottles, she explained in an exhausted monotone what each one was. "Cruciatus relief, calming potion, dreamless sleep. Do not take all at once, wait at least five minutes between each, don't drink the dreamless sleep until you are absolutely ready." She backed up a step. "Now, Mr. and Mr. Prewett, there are Aurors here to see you and then your family is here as well."

The Auror turned out to be the one who had taken the S.O.S. from the brothers. He said that Amelia Bones, the Auror leading the case, had been injured in the attack and was in one of the neighboring rooms, and would discuss the attack with the brothers sometime in the next few days. He thanked them for their offered cooperation and left.

The minute he was gone the twins' sister rushed in.

"Oh boys!" Molly Weasley cried, clutching a young child in each arm. "I warned you to be more careful, didn't I? I told you! Oh, now look at you!" She looked as though she couldn't decide whether to strangle her brothers or search them to see if they were hiding any more injuries.

"Molls, it's ok." Fabian tried to reason with her.

"Yeah, we're right as rain, the two of us. Aren't we, Fab?" Gideon asked.

His brother raised an eyebrow as Molly glared at the two of them. "Well…" He answered his brother. "Maybe not that alright. But alive."

"And that's what's important." Gideon agreed.

"Oh, you two!" Molly said despairingly. "Really!"

"Come on, Molly, don't start." Fabian pleaded. "We've just been subjected to a half hour of torture, give us a break?"

Gideon sensed their sister was about to burst into tears at Fabian's words, and so broke in. "Molls? I don't suppose you'd mind if we said hi to our two favorite nephews?"

Molly looked surprised for a moment. "Ah, yes." She said, handing over Fred and George to their uncles. Gideon accepted George gratefully, Fabian doing the same with Fred.

"All right there?" Fabian murmured to the baby, holding Fred close.

"All right then, you two. Be careful with them." Molly said. "I have to go speak with Dumbledore—he was waiting for me." She hurried past the curtain. They waited until her footsteps had faded before turning to each other.

"Fabian?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't remember Cruciatus exposure lending a headache."

"Yeah, that had me a bit worried too. What do you think Dumbledore wants?"

Both twins glanced at the door.

"I'm not sure." Gideon admitted after a moment. He glanced down at George who was sleeping in his arms. "But I feel like the answer's right in front of me."

~§~

"What?!" Fabian stared at Dumbledore in outraged disbelief. "You what?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily. "Fabian, you know the Order needs funding. With Lily and James under Fidelius, they can't offer any more, and Frank and Alice are in the same fix. The Prewetts are—"

"Not giving a single Knut!" Fabian roared. "Dumbledore, I don't know what game you're playing, but we get sent on an impossible suicide mission, our home is attacked, we end up in St. Mungo's with far too many bruises for my liking, and you expect us to fund the bloody Order that's ok with it all?" Gideon reached across the hospital beds to lay a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Dumbledore. Tell us exactly what the plan was if we should have succeeded in finding Voldemort's location."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled away. "I would have made a plan, asked Bagnold and Crouch for assistance, gathered the troops, so to speak, and marched against him."

Gideon met the headmaster's eyes angrily. "And if they refused? What then? What troops would you have gathered? How soon would you have fought? Would we be using lethal force?"

Dumbledore laughed lightly. "Heavens, no! Gideon, dear boy, you know full well the Order doesn't use lethal force. The enemy should have a chance to repent themselves. To learn their wrongdoings."

The twins glared at him. "I'm not sure if you've noticed, Dumbledore, but WE'RE AT WAR!" Fabian yelled, taking full use of the privacy wards in the room. "We WILL use lethal force if necessary! We have no troops with which to fight! The Ministry's only half on our side! You explain to me exactly what the point of this mission was! You explain to me exactly what the Order is doing!"

"I'm not sure what you think you're doing, Dumbledore, but I'll tell you this." Gideon seethed. "You no longer have the Prewetts in the Order. We will not fund you, we will not help you, we will not go on missions, and we will not spy. Find someone else, Dumbledore. Like someone who gives a care. We're done."

The twinkle dimmed in the headmaster's eyes. "Now boys, there is no need for rash decisions—"

Fabian cut him off. "I, Lord Prewett, hereby sever all direct ties to the Order of the Phoenix."

"I, Lord Prewett, hereby sever all direct alliances with Albus Dumbledore." Gideon added.

The twinkle disappeared from Dumbledore's eyes entirely. "I am sorry, my boys. The offer still stands, and you are welcome back at any time. Until you realize your mistake, however, I am afraid I cannot inform you of anything discussed in the Order."

"To hell with you, Dumbledore!" Fabian roared. "We. Don't. Care! We quit! Do you not—" The curtain was yanked open, revealing a very angry looking healer.

"Professor Dumbledore, your time is finished. Madame Bones needs to speak with Mr. and Mr. Prewett. Immediately."

Dumbledore left looking quite grave. Fabian was still spluttering in indignation when Amelia Bones entered.

~§~

A short, serious witch, Madam Bones had been in the Ministry for only a short time, but already had a fine reputation for fighting death eaters. Her brother and sister-in-law had been killed some months before [during Order business], and Amelia had adopted her surviving niece, Susan. Bones was dressed in her Auror robes with her ever-present monocle perched on her eye. She looked exhausted and sore, and had a bandage wrapped around her head.

She conjured a straight-backed wooden chair and sat down in between the twins' beds, setting up a dicta-quill.

"All right, Mr. and Mr. Prewett. First thing I'd like to know; how many death eaters attacked you?"

"What, no hello?" Fabian joked.

She glared at him with steely eyes. "The healer gave me strict instructions not to hex either of you. However, by law, I have the right to take you both off any and all potions if I feel they are interfering with your judgment; that includes pain potions."

The twins gaped. "You wouldn't!" Gideon protested.

Bones continued. "How many?"

Fabian huffed. "Five."

"Do you know who they were?"

"Three. Antonin Dolohov, and Bellatrix and Rudolphus Lestrange."

"Dolohov has been arrested, tried, and is already in Azkaban. We knew the Lestranges were death eaters, but we can't find them. Are you sure you didn't recognize the other two?"

"Sorry, Melia. They didn't take the masks off."

"Madame Bones. Did you hear voices?"

"Only the three we recognized."

"Were you doing anything to instigate an attack?"

The brothers shared a glance.

Bones sighed. "Order business."

"Yes." Gideon said. "We can't tell you what we were doing. But because we are no longer associated with the Order, we can tell you what we weren't doing."

Bones sat forward. "You left the Order? Was that why Dumbledore—never mind. What were you not doing, then?"

Fabian grinned. "Well, we weren't hanging out with pretty ladies, if that's what you're worried about, Melia. You know our gorgeous bodies belong to you only."

Bones yanked open the curtain, startling the healer who was standing just outside the privacy wards. "These two are off all pain potions for the next three days." She demanded.

"Wait!" Both twins protested. "Melia, that not's fair!"

"Oh, fine, Madame Bones!" Gideon scoffed at her glare. "You got, what, a concussion? And we got Crucio'd! Have some mercy, women!"

"Then talk." She told him bluntly.

"Fine. Are you aware of all the recent death eater captures?"

"Yes. Was that you two dropping them off?"

"Can't say. Are you aware of where Voldemort has his hideout?"

Her eyes widened. "You found it?"

"No." Fabian corrected her. "We didn't."

"But you tried?"

"Can't say. Magical oaths, you know."

She turned back to the healer and told her to resume the potions. "That's suicide. What was Dumbledore thinking?"

"That's what we wanted to know." Gideon said grimly. "We're fairly sure he's either gone dark, or around the bend. Personally, I'm not sure which is worse."

"If he is dark," Fabian continued. "He's probably been the whole time, in which case, we're screwed, because he's got fingers everywhere. If he's finally gone senile, I wouldn't be surprised, but we're still screwed. I don't suppose you can force him to have a mental checkup?"

Bones chewed her lip, frowning. "No. I can only have my Aurors do that." She glanced at them. "If you weren't part time, I'd make you two do it."

The twins cracked smiles. "Glad to know you care about us so, Melia." Fabian cried.

"Healer Barnes," Bones called out, standing up and readying to leave. "I do believe these two will need relief from those pain potions for the next three days, as I was saying."

~§~

Regulus Black pulled his cloak over his head and walked as quickly as he could. Diagon Alley was empty this early in the morning; he only hoped he'd have enough time to run before it started filling up. Even in times of war people had to shop.

It had been three days since he'd stolen the locket from the cave. He hardly dared to breathe; it was one thing for the dark lord to think he was too cowardly and had ran, but completely different for him to realize that Regulus had discovered about his horcruxes, and actually found one! Kreacher would keep the locket safe, but he had to destroy it! If only he knew how. It was such a shame he'd never read more of the darker books in the Black library. Maybe then he'd have some sort of idea. What could be powerful enough to destroy something that dark?

Regulus, trying desperately not to panic, thought desperately. Maybe Fiendfyre? That might work, if only he could cast and control it. No, it was too dangerous to even try. He'd have to find something else then.

Regulus was shaken out of his reverie when two people apparated directly in front of him, causing him to stumble in an effort to avoid them. His first panicked thought was that they were death eaters—the flaming mops of red hair peeking out from under their cloaks quickly put his mind at ease. Then he tensed up again, realizing that, as a run-away death eater, he really should be running from both sides. He started to draw his wand, but was quickly stopped when he found the twin wands of the Prewett brothers pointed at his face.

"Black." Fabian said coldly. Regulus noticed a long, pink scar running along his right cheek, giving a clear difference between the previously unidentifiable twins. "What a surprise."

Regulus took a step back, raising his hands in surrender. "Prewett." He answered quietly. "Listen, you need to let me go. There's something I have to do—you don't understand—"

"Understand what?" Gideon sneered. "You running off to go join your death eater friends?"

Regulus glanced around quickly. The streets were still empty. "Quiet!" He hissed at the twins. "Listen to me, will you? I need to—" An idea struck him. "I need to speak with Dumbledore! Or Sirius, if you can't do that."

Neither brother looked impressed. "And why should we help you? Everyone knows you don't get along with your brother."

"Dumbledore, then?"

"We don't work with him anymore. Talk quickly, Black. We're almost done here."

Regulus swallowed, and tried to rearrange his features to a calm, collected gaze. He had to tell someone, and everyone knew the Prewetts were against the dark lord. Even if they were having an argument with Dumbledore, they would still spread the news.

"The dark lord made horcruxes. That's his secret, why he's so invulnerable."

The twins spared a disbelieving glance at each other. "Horcruxes? As in more than one?" Gideon asked doubtfully.

"I'll swear on my magic." Regulus promised desperately. "I've found one, I just don't know how to destroy it. It's safe for now, though. He doesn't know it's gone yet. But he'll find me soon. If he finds out I found one, it'll never be destroyed. Imagine that, Prewett; the dark lord's bloody crusade, carving out an empire of terror for all of time."

Fabian motioned at Regulus' robes. "All right then. Get your wand—move slowly—and swear you know he has horcruxes, you've found one, and this isn't a trick."

Slowly, Regulus reached his hand into his pocket, pulling out his wand. Holding it directly in front of him, he swore, "I, Regulus Black, solemnly swear that I have discovered one of the dark lord's horcruxes. I swear that I believe he has made more than one, and that the one I have found is safe. I swear I have turned my back on him and his followers, and that this is not a trick. So I say, so mote it be!" He gave a wave, producing a Lumos.

The Prewetts lowered their wands, looking grave.

"All right, then." Fabian said quietly. "We'll trust you—for now. Where do you have it?"

Regulus stowed his wand, but kept a hand on it. "I daren't say."

This time he didn't jump when they pointed their wands at him.

"Oh really?" Fabian hissed. "And why not?"

"For Ravenclaws, you two are rather thick." Regulus said crossly, regaining some of his cold Slytherin mask. "We are at war. You never know who is listening. If you wish, I can apparate you there. Or I can tell you somewhere a bit safer. I will not give away the location in such a public place."

The Prewetts slowly lowered their wands. "Fine." Gideon said, glancing at his brother. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I need to see it. Apparate us?"

Fabian glared at his brother, then turned to Regulus. "You may have given an oath, but you also gave one to Voldemort." Regulus winced at the name. "If this is a trick, I will kill you." Ahhh, death threats! That may well be the cause of their spat with Dumbledore, Regulus realized. If the Prewetts wanted to strike harder, Dumbledore and his 'forgive and forgive again' policy wouldn't be happy.

"My oath to the dark lord wasn't magical. He saw no need for it, as he thought fear would be enough to keep his followers. He is able to summon us through the mark, but it has no other purpose."

Gideon motioned for him to get on with it. "Hurry up, Black."

Regulus, hardly believing they trusted him this quickly, grabbed their arms and apparated away.

No sooner had he done so then there was a series of pops behind where the three had stood.

"Damn!" Rookwood cursed loudly.

~§~

Regulus apparated them to an empty muggle street. The grimy fronts of the surrounding houses were not welcoming; some of them had broken windows; glimmering dully in the light of the streetlamps, paint was peeling from many of the doors, and heaps of rubbish lay outside several sets of steps.

The Prewetts immediately stepped away from Regulus; he would have laughed at their discomfort, if the situation hadn't been so grim.

"Where are we?" Gideon demanded.

"Borough of Islington, London. More specifically, Grimmauld Place."

"This is where the high and mighty Blacks live?" Fabian asked doubtfully. "A dingy muggle street?"

Regulus glared at him. "The Blacks live at #12 Grimmauld Place."

The brothers jumped back slightly as the houses 11 and 13 seemingly split, and a house grew out of the space before them with an impressive squelching noise.

"A Fidelius." Gideon said, impressed. "Paranoid, are we?"

"There's always a Fidelius." Regulus answered tensely. "As the unofficial current Head of the Black family, the three of us are the only ones currently keyed in, with the possible exception of my brother. I took advantage of that fact and hid the horcrux here." He calmly walked up the steps and through the door, not waiting to see whether or not the Prewetts would follow.

The inside of the house was grim and dark, colored with a green Slytherin theme. There was a heavy taint of dark magic, but the place appeared to be relatively clean and safe.

"Kreacher moved all of the dangerous objects to the basement and library when my mother died." Regulus explained.

"Kreacher?" Fabian demanded. "I thought you said there was no one else here?"

With a loud crack, an old, hideous house elf in a torn green pillow case appeared. "Master Regulus called Kreacher?"

Regulus turned to the gaping twins. "I have found that everyone, even the dark lord, severely underestimates the house elves. Kreacher helped me find the horcrux; he is the one now guarding it. Can I get you something to drink?"

Fabian shot him a glare. "Shut it, Black. Where is the damned thing?"

Regulus led them to a surprisingly small kitchen. He opened a bottom corner cupboard, and took out a plain wooden box. He handed it to Gideon.

"There you are." He said nonchalantly. "The dark lord's horcrux, otherwise known as Slytherin's locket."

Gideon almost dropped the box. Fabian's jaw dropped.

"What? Slytherin's locket? What the hell, Black, never mind a horcrux, how'd Voldemort find it?"

Regulus shrugged, taking the box out of Gideon's loosened fingers, and placed it gingerly on the counter. "I'm sure I have no idea. Possibly a family relic; after all, he has claimed to be the heir of Slytherin. While most consider it a fanciful idea, he is a known parselmouth. I see no reason why he couldn't be related to the great founder, if not his direct heir."

"Can we see it?" Fabian asked almost reverently. "If it is really Slytherin's…"

Regulus picked up the box again. "Don't pick it up." He warned. "It has some unpleasant side effects when touched." Opening the box, he allowed the brothers to peer inside.

Fabian whistled appreciatively. "Merlin's beard, that's definitely dark, all right. How are you sure it's a horcrux?"

Regulus smiled grimly. He carefully picked up the locket. Instantly a form appeared in front of the three; a tall, unrecognizable shadow.

"Regulus Black." It hissed. "Gone where he shouldn't have, and unwilling to pay the price. You're too cowardly to save your people from the muggle filth, Regulus. Too afraid to get your hands dirty, always the perfect little boy." Regulus had turned white. The soul piece addressed the twins. "What is this? The Prewett twins? Surely you don't trust a Black with my mark on his arm. Certainly not after Dumbledore's little betrayal." The soul piece laughed. "You'll fail; all of you, running after the light. This is so much bigger than a little war; the world will be mine!"

The box slammed shut with a resounding thud. Regulus yelped and rescued his fingertips. "What the hell, Kreacher?!"

Kreacher bowed his head. "Kreacher is sorry, Master Regulus, Kreacher sees bad magic hurting Master Regulus, Kreacher stop it, Kreacher hurt master Regulus' fingers, Kreacher go punish himself—"

Regulus sighed, nursing his fingers. "Kreacher, it's fine. You did well; thank you for saving us. Apparently it was stronger than I thought. We should have been more cautious."

The Prewetts were pale and clammy, standing frozen in front of Regulus. He sighed, turning to Kreacher. "Fetch me three calming potions, Kreacher. Quickly please." Kreacher popped away, and Regulus pulled out his wand.

"Ouch!" Fabian yelped, dodging a second stinging hex which hit Gideon in the cheek. "What the hell, Black?"

Regulus calmly lowered his wand. "The horcrux had more power than I thought. I fear what it may be like when we try to destroy it. Kreacher is fetching calming potions; will anything else be needed?"

Gideon rubbed his slightly swollen cheek, looking miffed. "No. But we need to talk."

Regulus raised his eyebrow. "Of course. You will want to tell the Order. I assumed as much. However, we need a safe place to keep this until they find a way to destroy—"

"Shut it, Black." Fabian growled. "Stop assuming our moves. We're not taking you to the Order, and we're certainly not telling Dumbledore about this. The horcrux stays here until we learn more."

Regulus froze. "What? But—why?"

Gideon answered. "We dropped out of the Order. They're completely useless. And Dumbledore refuses to use anything remotely offensive. If we show up with you in tow, he'll just say it proves death eaters can be forgiven, brush off the horcruxes, and forget the whole thing."

Regulus lost the small remainder of his calm Slytherin mask. "What?"

Fabian continued on. "If it's all right with you, the horcrux stays here, as do any others we find. You and the elf stay here at all times and guard it. Voldemort can't find you. At the moment, you're the only link we have to any knowledge pertaining to his horcruxes, if he truly has more than one. The second you leave this place, he'll kill you."

Regulus pursed his lips. "You trust me?"

Two pairs of eyes met his. It was completely disorienting, he thought, to have to stare down two people at once.

"Yes." Gideon admitted. "That was a horcrux, and no loyal follower of Voldemort would find his horcrux and give it to two previous Order members."

"All right." Regulus said, sitting down heavily in a chair. "And what makes you think I'll stay here?"

"Does anyone else know about the horcruxes?" Fabian asked deliberately.

"No."

"Then unless you feel like telling us everything, right now, you will stay under this Fidelius or so help me I'll tie you to that chair until we can solve the problem safely." Gideon hissed.

"Safely?" Regulus sat back. "We're at war. Nothing's safe."

"Ah-ah-ah." Fabian waggled his finger. "Dumbledore knows Voldemort's going to suffer some pretty severe losses soon. He's been sending out Order missions like crazy, and not normal ones either. These are downright suicidal; we lost the Bones and the McKinnons just last week. Could've added us to that list too, if we'd Flooed the Order instead of the Aurors."

Regulus raised his eyebrow. "You think the dark lord's going to lose a battle because his death eaters keep killing your men?"

"Dumbledore just put the Potters and Longbottoms under Fidelius. Cast it himself. He's laying a trap, somehow. I just don't know what it is."

Regulus froze. "Snape brought him a piece of information the other day which upset him terribly. I've never seen someone cast a Crucio that long." He paused, recalling the incident. "He mentioned something about the Potters. Something about…born as the seventh month dies?"

Both brothers looked flummoxed. "Their son, Harry, was born end of July." Gideon said. "Come to think of it, the Longbottom's kid was too."

"I'll stay here." Regulus said. "I'll guard the locket, and refine my theories. You two will drop by when you feel like it, I'm sure, and rip them apart with those blasted brains of yours. Will you talk to the Potters or Longbottoms?"

"Can't." Fabian answered simply. "They're under Fidelius, and we don't know the secret keeper, for obvious reasons. Though rumor has it it's your brother."

"We're not allowed in the Order anymore." Gideon said. "We really ripped into Dumbledore last time. Doubt he'll be happy to see us again."

"I'll search the family library, see if I find anything useful." Regulus offered. "Though I'd appreciate if you two would pop into Cobb and Webb's for me? Or Mors and Nox? They have a nice collection of dark arts books we might find useful." He asked innocently.

Gideon looked ready to protest, but Fabian shrugged. "All right. Where are they?"

"Knockturn Alley."

"No way in hell, Black. I take one step in Knockturn and it'll be the last one I ever take. Try something more reasonable."

"All right. You're aware of Polyjuice and the Imperius?"

"Yes." Gideon snapped. "The last one's caused quite a bit of trouble in particular. Why?"

Regulus hid a wry smile. "A simple way to diagnose either of those is to simply ask a person a question only they would know the answer to. For example, if I asked you what the first thing was that you said when we met in Diagon Alley, and you said anything other than 'Black. What a surprise', then I'd hex you and leave you to Kreacher."

Gideon narrowed his eyes. "You're suggesting prearranging some questions."

"As we barely know each other, yes. One little personal tidbit should do for now. You can part with one, can't you?"

Fabian growled. "No games, Black. You first."

"Fine. I had a cat when I was eight. Its name was Squeakers. He angered my mother when she tripped on him. I locked myself in my room for a week. You?"

The twins looked astonished.

"Squeakers?" Fabian snickered. Regulus stared at him pointedly.

"Your turn, Prewett."

"Fine." Gideon answered tersely. "One moment."

The brothers turned to each other, whispering fervently for a moment. They turned back, both looking unhappy and a little red.

Fabian spoke. "When we were fifteen, we fell for Amelia Bones. Turned us down every time we asked her out. Never asked anyone else out, after her."

Regulus stared. "Both of you? Blimey, it's been a while since there's been a polygamous marriage. Still, Bones? She's got a heart of stone."

The twins turned red. "Ah, shut up." Fabian hissed. "You stay here, we'll be back tomorrow with your damn books."

~§~

A few months later…

Fabian and Gideon apparated into #12 Grimmauld Place with two loud pops. They landed in the kitchen, throwing themselves into chairs.

"Oi! Black!" Fabian shouted. "We—" He hastily ducked a stinging hex.

"Shut it, will you?" Regulus asked, walking in the door with a black haired child in each arm.

The brothers stared at him.

"Where'd they come from?" Gideon asked warily.

"Relax." Regulus set the toddlers down, pushing them gently out the door towards a very unhappy looking Kreacher. "With the Lestranges arrested, these two came to either me or the Malfoys."

Fabian's eyes widened. "The Lestranges? What are you talking about? You left the house, didn't you?"

"Yes. The dark lord is currently without a body, and his followers are being quiet. It's quite safe for me to reappear." Regulus continued, ignoring the outraged faces of the twins. "It turned out dear cousin Bellatrix actually gave Rudolphus two boys. Aries and Rigel are barely three years old. As Head of the Blacks, I have direct right to Bellatrix's children with all three Lestranges presently incarcerated. The Malfoy's laid a claim as well, but with Lucius paying out his arse to stay out of Azkaban himself, I had almost no trouble. The twins are now Aries and Rigel Black, not Lestrange." He paused. "I just hope I can tell them apart." He added as an afterthought. "Merlin knows, they've tried the swapping trick already."

That had the Prewetts laughing. "Well!" Fabian said. "Now with Voldemort currently 'indisposed', we have plenty of time to work on our little project. You're safe to come and go as you please, and we three have business to attend to."

Regulus raised his eyebrow. "What sort of business?"

"Simple." Gideon said, smiling widely. "We're neutralizing the family line. The Prewetts are now grey." Regulus widened his eyes. "We're cutting all direct ties to Dumbledore, naming Fred and George our heirs, and allying ourselves with House Black. If you're interested."

"Oh hell yes." Regulus grinned. "That ought to stir up the hornets' nest."

Fabian laughed. "Careful there, Black. For a moment I thought you were actually having fun."

Regulus' grin turned nasty. "My brother was one of the Marauders. I am capable of having fun." That shut the Prewetts up.

"We heard about Sirius." Gideon said flatly. "We wanted to say—"

Regulus shot a stinging curse at him. "You're idiots. The thickest Ravenclaws I've ever met. Tell me, do you just so happen to know a death eater? One whom, perhaps, would know for certain whether or not Sirius Black was truly able to betray the Potters?"

The brothers gasped in realization. "That's…" Gideon faltered. "So what happened?"

"What happened," Regulus hissed viciously. "Is that Sirius went and did something stupid, and got himself thrown into Azkaban without trial. My additions to the hornet nest we seem to be making are one, get Sirius a trial, two, figure out how to tell my new brats apart, three, find and destroy all the horcruxes, and four, ally House Black with House Prewitt. And officially turn grey."

Gideon whistled. "That'll do it, alright."

Fabian shook his head appreciatively, before conjuring three glasses and a bottle of Firewhiskey. "Here's to the start of a beautiful friendship."

He yelped and dropped his glass when Regulus shot another stinging hex at him.

~§~

The Daily Prophet

PREWETTS AND BLACKS ALLIED: BOTH GREY! By Rita Skeeter

As everyone knows, just last week You-Know-Who was killed by little Harry Potter, now known as the boy-who-lived. This past week finished up with several arrests and many trials of known and suspected death eaters, including the Lestranges, who were arrested three days ago for torturing Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom into insanity.

However, as astounding as this act may be; as jubilant as we all are for sudden and wonderful peace; what now? What is the next excitement? Must we worry about others vying for the place of most terrifying wizard of the century?

As it turns out, both of the Prewett twins [known for their cleverness and superb dueling abilities], Gideon and Fabian [the Heads of the Ancient and Noble House of Prewett] have suddenly cancelled all direct ties to Chief Warlock and Hogwarts Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore! Why have these two thought-to-be-light Aurors suddenly broken off such an alliance? Is there a hidden meaning? What are they hiding? Some might wonder if the devilishly handsome [and still single!] brothers have gone dark.

And for those who wonder, the Prewetts have indeed declared the House of Prewett of Grey Neutrality! Immediately upon doing this, they also named their three year old nephews, Frederick and George Weasley, as the heirs to House Prewett! Why would two such young, handsome, and single wizards name heirs not their own children so young? Is there some sort of hidden secret between the Prewett twins and the Weasley twins? Why else would they give the heirship to the fourth and fifth children of a light family allied to Dumbledore?

Not only have they broken off the alliance with the Chief Warlock [recently elected Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards], and quit their previous job as Aurors [page 7], but they also appear to have allied themselves with the Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, Regulus Black!

As readers may know, the Black family is well known for using dark magic and supporting pureblood supremacists, and they have been a dark family for as long as can be remembered! Readers may also remember the disowned heir to the Black line was Sirius Black, a confirmed death eater who sold out the Potters to You-Know-Who, and is currently residing in Azkaban. 

When questioned, Lord Black said, "My brother was never a death eater; he would have rather died. James Potter was his best friend. Someone framed him, and I'm going to at least get him a trial."

Why has Regulus Black taken over the family headship, declared the House of Black of Grey Neutrality, and allied itself with the House of Prewett? One will wonder what secrets the Prewett brothers and Lord Black are hiding!

Lord Black answered, "I have taken over the headship of House Black as my brother was currently disowned. Even if he wasn't, Sirius never had much appreciation of politics."

The first thing the new Lord Black did upon attaining his Lordship was to welcome his incarcerated brother back into the family. He then immediately pushed the Wizengamot for a trial, stating that all suspected death eaters should have one with Veritaserum, no matter the 'supposed' evidence. The request was thrown out at once; Sirius Black was declared guilty. Lord Black promised he would not allow the issue to drop.

It must not come as such a surprise, after these doings, that the new Lord Black has adopted his cousin Bellatrix Lestrange's three year old twins, Aries and Rigel Black, previously Lestrange, and made them his wards and heirs. After doing this, Lord Black abolished the marriage between Bellatrix and Rudolphus Lestrange, emptied the Lestrange vaults as compensation for her dowry, the children, and illegal activities, and disowned Bellatrix Black from the House of Black!

Readers will wonder if Lord Black's other cousins, Narcissa Malfoy, and the disowned Andromeda Tonks, will have to worry.

As a matter of fact, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa's husband, attempted to adopt the Lestrange-now-Black twins, and was delayed because of his suspected death eater activities. Lord Black has made no apparent move towards the Malfoy family.

Andromeda Tonks, however, along with her husband, Edward [a muggle-born known as Ted], and young daughter, Nymphadora, have been reinstated into the family of Black.

What is the meaning behind these strange and suspicious acts? Are the Prewetts and Black plotting some foul plan? Are we facing the possible rise of not one, not two, but THREE new dark lords? I certainly hope not!

Readers and myself alike are certain to be anxiously watching the next dubious acts of these three young Lords.


	2. A Lucrative Birthday and a Giant

Gideon and Fabian Prewett were quite happy with life.

Ever since they had named Fred and George as heirs to the House of Prewett, they were allowed [required, actually] by law to help raise the boys in proper pureblood style and tradition. This meant that Fred and George Weasley-Prewett had to learn how to act around certain people and how to behave at certain events; what people to befriend, and what people to stay away from; which social gatherings were appropriate for them to be seen at, and which ones weren't; etcetera.

Both the Lord Prewetts and the Heir Prewetts found this kind of study not only tediously boring, but time wasting as well. Gideon and Fabian probably would have taught the boys the basics and left it at that. Unfortunately for them, Regulus Black took over the etiquette training for all four.

Apparently, he felt that the Prewetts needed some more training in that area as well.

The twins all tolerated it, however, and actually became quite adept at it. Fred and George liked to consider it a grand prank when they were allowed to snub their noses at Draco Malfoy, due to the House of Prewett being of Most Noble and Ancient standing, compared to the merely Junior House of Malfoy.

The twin sons of Regulus, Aries and Rigel, also had to learn all of this. Being the same age as Fred and George, the four boys quickly became friends, particularly due to the new closeness of the Prewetts and the Blacks.

The four were tutored in the basics of magic before entering Hogwarts, as was proper for the Heirs of Houses. They weren't allowed to actually use magic until they bought their wands, but they learned theory and incantations, as well as potions.

The Prewetts and Regulus may have taught them a little more than commonly thought necessary, due to paranoia. The boys however took to it like fish to water, and always looked forward to the next magic lesson. [Classes like History of Magic were not looked forward to with such excitement.]

When they entered Hogwarts, the boys were frightened that their friendship would suffer hardships. Aries and Rigel were sorted into Slytherin, and Fred and George were sorted into Gryffindor. At first people shunned them for 'socializing with the enemy', but that was immediately stopped when Gideon, Fabian, and Regulus gave out an interview to The Daily Prophet restating their alliance and the importance of friendship between the two Houses.

Many people were surprised that the friendship worked as well as it did. Fred and George were loud and impulsive, with explosive tempers and fierce loyalty. They were unbelievably clever, but hated schoolwork with a passion and much preferred pranking. They were wildly popular, and everyone knew that the twins knew every nook and cranny of the castle like the backs of their hands.

Aries and Rigel were quiet and thoughtful, but were violently dangerous when angered. They rarely hung out with anyone other than Fred and George, and so very few people had any ideas as to which people they felt any loyalty or likeness to. They were easily as clever as the Weasley twins, but were much more studious about it, preferring to spend their free time in the library hunting for obscure books.

~§~

Neither the Prewetts nor Regulus trusted Dumbledore ever again. The twins had come to the firm decision that he was both mad and power-hungry, and was willing to do whatever he had to do to stay at the top of the political food chain.

It did surprise them, however, when Regulus did some research and found that Dumbledore truly had fingers everywhere. As Headmaster, he solely decided what each generation would or would not learn; as Chief Warlock, he was aware of and could manipulate any and all old or new laws that the Wizengamot had; as Supreme Mugwump, he had many friends in the International Confederation of Wizards; as adviser to the Minister, he had almost complete control of the Ministry; as Head of the Dumbledore family, he had access to the family's originally small fortune, which had grown suspiciously over the years; and as the Defeater of Gellert Grindelwald, he had the love and respect of the people.

They were shocked at just how many loopholes in the laws applied only to him—and even more so when they realized that through spies or heavy bribes, he had almost no political opponents. The only ones left were Prewett, Black, Longbottom, Malfoy, Greengrass, and, surprisingly, Weasley.

Dumbledore also had direct control of many of the proxies of Wizengamot seats; either lines that had died out, ones that had been handed to him personally by either force or friendship, or ones which belonged to families defeated by him [or the Order] in the war. These included the McKinnons, the Potters, the Selwyns, the Gaunts, the Abbotts, the Ollivanders, and the Gibbons. He also held the seat of Dumbledore, Hogwarts Headmaster, and those of the four founders as his own.

Regulus was quite surprised to find that many more families than he had thought were of Grey Neutrality; families who had refused to pick a side in the war and so had fled the country. These families were presumed to be dead until the Prewetts sent out owls announcing that Voldemort had been defeated. When they returned, these Grey Houses tended to simply sit in on Wizengamot meetings. They paid close attention to who was winning and what seemed most popular, and never chose a side. As they rarely voted, they posed no real threat to Dumbledore, but they clearly couldn't be counted as his opponents either.

Both of the Prewetts had been approached a few times by Dumbledore, asking if they would be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professors. Both turned him down, not wanting to be so close to the headmaster for such a long time. Neither felt safe in Hogwarts, where he was able to watch them constantly.

Since it was expected that they send Fred and George to Hogwarts, they didn't have much choice in allowing the Weasley twins to attend. Gideon and Fabian tried to persuade Molly and Arthur out of it, but both parents refused.

Regulus used Aries and Rigel as his spies within Hogwarts. They usually reported only the activities of fellow students; children of prominent families and Houses, or even talented muggle-borns. Fred and George tried to help with this, but they were often better at creating distractions so that the Blacks could snoop in out-of-bounds areas, such as other dorms.

~§~

The brothers were quite concerned over what had happened the night they had been attacked. Prewett's Folly was an old house of a powerful pureblood family, and as such it had fairly decent protections. The manor itself was designed to trap any intruders and keep them away from the family; this however wasn't much help when the intruders decided to simply blow holes in the walls. The wards were also supposed to be very strong, having been activated at the start of the war.

Gideon and Fabian were worried because the wards had done absolutely nothing to stop the death eaters. They didn't even shown they had been disturbed when the brothers checked them the following week. Thus the Prewetts hired a special team of warders, and completely remodeled the ward scheme, inadvertently leading their little nephew Bill to his new dream when they attempted to break through the new wards to test their strength.

The new wards, placed on and charged by large, strong wardstones, were heavily laced with Muggle and wizard Notice-Me-Not charms, dark creature wards, dark magic wards, and intruder anti-portkey and anti-apparation wards. The heads of the family were the only ones able to enter the wards at will; anyone else had to have their names entered by the Lords in the ward-book. Prewett's Folly was also placed under a perpetual Fidelius, just like Grimmauld Place.

There were only two other people that both the Prewetts and the Blacks allowed under their Fidelius' besides each other—Amelia Bones and her niece, Susan. Madame Bones had eventually become Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which meant that Regulus was constantly asking for her help in freeing Sirius.

Azkaban prison only allowed visitors twice a year, for ten minutes at a time. Twice a year, Regulus would go and visit his brother. The first time he did, Sirius had been shocked to hear that his brother was alive. Then—he was angry. The guards had been forced to lead him away, Sirius yelling obscenities at Regulus the entire time.

On the second visit, Regulus was able to convince Sirius that he had abandoned Voldemort, and that he knew Sirius wasn't guilty. Year by year, the brothers were able to piece together more and more evidence that Sirius was innocent.

Madame Bones had known of Sirius and James Potter's friendship, and personally doubted that Sirius had betrayed his best friend. As a Law Enforcement Official, it was her job to ensure that everyone received a trial; especially if the man claimed innocence. At every Wizengamot meeting, she and Regulus would fight both Dumbledore and the Minister to allow a trial. And at every meeting, they lost.

Despite Sirius not yet being free, both Prewett brothers and Regulus were quite pleased with how much they had done in the last decade. Not much had been openly done for the public, as they had nowhere near enough support to try and remove Dumbledore from any of his posts, but the two families were very safe and secure, and that was what they had wanted.

Regulus had been shocked when he discovered a horcrux in his former cousin Bellatrix's Gringotts vault. He placed Hufflepuff's cup in the locked box with Slytherin's locket.

The Malfoys, in an attempt to placate him after he threatened to dissolve their marriage about three years after the war, had given him a diary that had been entrusted to them by Voldemort. The diary was also put in the box.

Despite their best efforts, Gideon, Fabian, and Regulus only found three ways to destroy horcruxes—Fiendfyre, basilisk venom, and the killing curse.

Fiendfyre was deemed too dangerous to cast, since none of them knew how to control it, nor did they feel inclined to learn. Basilisk venom was impossible to find, as there had been no known basilisks in over a century. The killing curse only worked on living creatures, which they found out when Regulus attempted to destroy the locket.

However, three horcruxes were already found and in their possession—Regulus was still searching for the rest when not hung up in the Wizengamot.

~§~

Ms. Anthony had realized years ago that trying to help Harry get away from his relatives was a hopeless cause. The child care officers either forgot about the case entirely, or had unfortunate 'accidents' and disappeared off face of the planet. So, she gave up, knowing a useless cause when she saw one. This did not deter the stubborn women from her goal, however; it only made her change her plan.

When Harry was nine years old, Ms. Anthony happened to be walking by while he was doing some gardening. She promptly asked the Dursleys if she could take him home during days when school was out to help her around the house. After many days of frustrating arguing, and no small amount of bribing [in the guise of paying Harry for his 'help'], the Dursleys finally said yes.

This meant that from eight to six or later on any given day, Harry was over at Ms. Anthony's, eating full meals, working on schoolwork, studying karate, and learning how to be a somewhat normal boy. Although he was always shy and wary around people he didn't know, Harry finally learned that it was perfectly fine to eat at the table with other people and expect to be full at the end. It was perfectly fine to go back to bed on a weekend, so long as he didn't sleep in too late. It was perfectly fine for him to have ice cream and sweets, and to watch television, and to play games.

Ms. Anthony was horrified the first time she learned that he didn't even know his parents' names. Unfortunately, she couldn't cajole the Dursleys into telling her, and there appeared to be no actual records of the Potters, other than that they were dead.

Harry was shocked the first time she surprised him on his birthday with a new pair of shoes. She practically forced the Dursleys to make sure he wore them whenever he went out, as she insisted that no one should wear duct taped shoes while working on rose bushes [that was her excuse]. She insisted so much that Petunia finally agreed to make sure that Harry also had his own underwear and at least one pair of sturdy pants to 'work' in.

The only reason the Dursleys allowed this to happen was because it meant they only had to deal with Harry in the early morning and at night. Ms. Anthony took care of all his meals, some of his clothes [though, admittedly, the Dursleys only allowed the shoes, underwear, and pants], and a good chunk of his education. They took this to mean that they were allowed to spend less money on Harry than Ms. Anthony would spend on a goldfish.

The best part of it, Harry thought, was that the Dursleys no longer called him 'boy', or 'freak'. Ms. Anthony had happened to hear Vernon call him Freak one day, and just about had an aneurism. None of the Dursleys were brave enough to call him any other names after that, so to them Harry was simply known as 'Potter'.

It was Ms. Anthony who became the only person Harry ever trusted as a child. He often wondered if that was what it felt like to have a mom. He never asked her.

~§~

The day the first Hogwarts letter came, Harry was already at Ms. Anthony's. Petunia burned it, while Vernon forbid Dudley from thinking about it. Harry was also gone when the next set came. He also missed the third group, but was curious as to why Uncle Vernon had boarded up the mail slot.

When the letters started coming through the windows and cracks in the doors, Harry told Ms. Anthony. The librarian was shocked, having absolutely no clue as to what could possibly be going on. Yes, strange things often happened around Harry, like that time he scraped his knee and she went to bandage it only to find it completely healed, but this was a bit much. Ms. Anthony couldn't very well ask the Dursleys for one of the letters as she wasn't actually Harry's legal guardian, and Harry certainly couldn't ask.

It just so happened that on that fateful Sunday, Ms. Anthony had left town to visit her elderly mother. As a result, Harry had been made to stay with the Dursleys.

When the letters started flying down the chimney, Vernon had a rough time herding Harry away from them all. Moments away from having a legitimate heart attack, Vernon ordered both boys to pack a quick bag of clothes. They left the house ten minutes later, stopping only to leave a hastily scribbled note on Ms. Anthony's porch, saying they had gone away for a few days and taken Harry with them.

When they finally stopped the impromptu road trip, no one was impressed with the rotting shack on the island fortress that Uncle Vernon had somehow managed to find. Dudley kept silently throwing glances at his father, and asking if 'Daddy's gone mad'. Aunt Petunia was trying to talk privately to Vernon; and Harry would have found the entire thing dreadfully amusing if he wasn't so hungry, curious, and cold.

There was a large storm brewing outside the shack, and it wasn't much better inside. The place stank of seaweed, the wind whistled through gaps in the walls, and the fireplace was stone cold. There were two rooms; Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia took one, Harry and Dudley took the other.

Aside from the small overnight bags that had been packed, the only things that they had were a few bags of chips and a long, thin package that Vernon refused to let out of his sight.

Uncle Vernon cackled madly as he tried to light a fire with the chip bags. "Could use some of those letters now, eh?" he said cheerfully to no one in particular.

Harry sat down, pulling his knees to his chest in an attempt to warm himself. He had received more of those letters than the ones on Sunday? He thought about the letters he had received at the hotel; how were they following him? Who wanted to speak to him that badly? Why hadn't Ms. Anthony received any if they could find him even at the hotel? Would they be able to find him here?

Uncle Vernon clearly thought they were safe from any unwanted post here, and Harry had to agree with him. Still…after the trick on Sunday, Harry wouldn't have been surprised.

As the storm raged outside, the Dursleys eventually fell asleep. Harry remained awake, counting down the hours using Dudley's softly glowing wristwatch. He shivered under the thinnest blanket that had been found, glancing enviously at the moldy sofa Dudley was sleeping on. The storm was getting worse.

Still, he thought, he was almost eleven now! The Dursleys, as usual, had completely ignored his birthday. If he was still at Privet Drive, Ms. Anthony would have made him a chocolate cake, and there would be a present on the table. Usually a book, and never something nice that the Dursleys would take away, but all the same, Harry so rarely got presents. In fact, he never got presents, not at all, except from Ms. Anthony. He wondered what she had gotten him this year.

Five minutes to go. Harry heard something creak outside. He hoped the roof wasn't going to fall in, although he might be warmer if it did. Four minutes to go. Maybe the house in Privet Drive would be so full of letters when they got back that he'd be able to steal one away to Ms. Anthony somehow.

Three minutes to go. Was that the sea, slapping hard on the rock like that? And [two minutes to go] what was that funny crunching noise? Was the rock crumbling into the sea? Oh, how he hoped not.

One minute to go and he'd be eleven. Thirty seconds…twenty…ten…nine—maybe he'd wake Dudley up, just to annoy him—three…two…one…

BOOM.

The door shuddered violently. Harry sat bolt upright.

BOOM. The sound came again. Dudley jerked awake, almost falling off the couch.

"Where's the cannon?" The boy asked stupidly, only half awake.

There was a crash behind them, and Uncle Vernon entered the room carrying a rifle—which must have been in that package he had been holding, Harry realized. He briefly wondered if it was even legal.

"Who's there?" Vernon shouted, face pale. "I warn you—I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then—

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it flew right off its hinges [though Harry doubted it would have lasted much longer against the storm anyway]. It landed with a deafening crash on the floor, almost squashing Harry.

Looking up, Harry gaped. A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, scruffy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard. You could barely make out his twinkling black eyes behind all the hair.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head only brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door, and easily fitted it back into the frame. The noise dropped suddenly. The man turned to look at them.

"Couldn't make us a cup o' tea, could yeh? It's not been an easy journey…"

In one big step he strode over to the sofa where Dudley was sitting, paralyzed in fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked in terror and ran to hide behind Aunt Petunia, who was hiding behind Uncle Vernon, who was in turn hiding behind his rifle.

"An' here's Harry!" Said the giant.

Harry looked up into the wild mane of hair. The giant smiled, eyes crinkling.

"Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby," he said. "Yeh look a lot like yer dad, but yeh've got yer mom's eyes."

Harry froze. This giant stranger had known his parents? He knew Harry? How?

Part of the boy wanted to eagerly ask questions about his parents; what were their names? What were they like? Why did the Dursleys hate them so much? What did they look like? [Comparing Harry to his parents wasn't enough; what Harry really wanted was a picture or something.] But another part of Harry said—wait. He knew you as a baby? Why'd he leave you here with the Dursleys? Why didn't he ever come see you? Why come now? What did he want?

Before Harry could say anything, Uncle Vernon made a funny rasping noise. "I demand that you leave at once, sir! You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune." Replied the giant casually; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Vernon's shaking hands, twisted it like a pretzel, and threw it into the corner. The Dursleys gaped. Harry scooted back, face paling drastically.

Uncle Vernon made another funny noise. Harry couldn't blame him; he felt like making one too.

"Anyway—Harry." The giant turned back to the boy. "A very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here—I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste alright."

The man reached inside his enormously large coat and pulled out a slightly squashed box. With trembling fingers, Harry accepted the gift. On closer inspection, it was revealed to be a large, sticky chocolate cake with the words Happy Birthday Harry written on it in green icing.

Not trusting food from a stranger, although incredibly hungry and not wanting to be rude, Harry set the box down next to him. "Who are you?" He asked.

The giant chuckled at the question. "True, I haven't introduced meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts." He held out a large hand and shook Harry's whole arm.

"What about that tea then, eh?" He asked, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

Rubeus Hagrid's eyes fell on the empty grate with the shriveled up chip bags. He snorted, then bent down to the fireplace. Harry didn't see what he did, but a moment later a roaring hot fire suddenly appeared. The warmth washed around the hut, filling Harry up as if he'd just had a hot bath.

The giant sat back on the couch, which sagged under his weight, and reached into his pockets. He pulled out a copper kettle, a squished package of sausages which Harry though looked slightly green, a poker, a teapot, several banged up mugs, and a bottle filled with amber liquid. He took a swig from the bottle, then set to work making the sausages. Soon, Harry's mutinying stomach was growling loudly.

No one said anything as he was working. When the first six sausages were cooked, however, Dudley started fidgeting. Uncle Vernon snapped sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

The man chuckled darkly. "Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

Despite his misgivings, Harry felt a smile start to creep onto his face. Ms. Anthony often complained about Dudley's sheer size. Thinking of the beloved librarian, Harry felt a sharp pain in his chest. He wondered at that. Did he miss her? Was he homesick? He'd never been away from home before, so he didn't know.

The giant had just taken a swig of tea. "Call me Hagrid." He offered. "Everyone does. An' like I told yeh, I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts—yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

"Actually," Harry said, feeling brave enough to voice his thoughts. "I have no idea what 'Hogwarts' is, or what a keeper of keys is."

Hagrid looked shocked. For a moment, he didn't speak. Then—

"What?!" He turned to face the Dursleys, who shrunk back in fright. "Yeh should be sorry, Dursley! Blimey, Harry! I knew yeh weren't getting yer letters but I never thought ye wouldn't even know abou' Hogwarts, fer crying out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yer parents learned it all?"

"All what?" Harry asked, thoroughly confused. So Hagrid had come because Harry wasn't getting the letters—was that it?

"ALL WHAT?" Hagrid thundered. "Now wait jus' one second!" He leapt to his feet. In his anger he seemed to fill the whole hut. The Dursleys were cowering against the wall.

"Do you mean to tell me," he growled dangerously, "that this boy—this boy!—knows nothin' abou'—about ANYTHING?"

Harry was getting indignant now. First, those strange letters had made the Dursleys pull him away from Ms. Anthony—on his birthday. Then, he had to sleep—on the floor—of a hut about to fall into the sea. This giant man broke in, terrified the Dursleys, and started insulting Harry. OF COURSE Harry knew things! Thanks to Ms. Anthony, he was in the top ten of all of his classes!

He voiced as such.

To his disbelief, Hagrid simply waved his hand. "About our world, I mean. Your world. My world. Yer parents' world."

"What world?"

Hagrid looked ready to explode from anger. Harry felt ready to explode from exasperation.

"DURSLEY!" Hagrid boomed.

Uncle Vernon mumbled something. Hagrid stared at Harry aghast.

"But yeh must know about yer mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

Harry huffed. "Look, Mr. Hagrid. I don't even know my parents' names. I do know they certainly weren't famous."

Hagrid jumped to his feet. "DURSLEY!"

Harry stood up too. "Stop shouting! It's past midnight, and I'm tired!" Hagrid immediately stared at Harry, shocked, and still sparing glares at the Dursleys.

"Mr. Hagrid." The boy said calmly. "Would you care to explain what you're talking about? I have no doubts that I was lied to about my parents. If you know the truth, would you please mind sharing?"

Hagrid looked ashamed. "All righ'." He said finally. He glared at the Dursleys one last time. "But if I hear one peep out of one of yeh—I won't be happy." Hagrid sat back down.

"Harry—yer a wizard."

There was complete silence. Only the storm outside could be heard.

"I'm a what?" Harry asked skeptically. He glanced at the Dursleys, half believing this to be a crazy dream, like the one he'd had about the flying motorcycle a few weeks ago.

"A wizard, o' course." Hagrid replied. "An' a thumpin' good un, I'd say, once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum and dad like yours, who wouldn't be? An' I reckon it's abou' time yeh read yer letter."

Harry slowly stretched out his hand at last to take the yellowish envelope, which was curiously addressed to Mr. H. Potter, The Floor, Hut-on-the-Rock, The Sea, in bright green ink. He pulled open the letter warily, and read:

Hogwarts School

of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mister Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.  
Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,  
Deputy Headmistress

Questions exploded inside Harry's head. The first one that popped out of his mouth was, to his dislike, "What does it mean, they await my owl?"

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me." Hagrid said, slapping a hand to his forehead. He reached into yet another pocket and pulled out—an owl. A real, live, rather rumpled and upset looking owl that appeared as if it had been sat on. He then pulled out a long—was that a quill?!—and a roll of—parchment? With his tongue between his teeth, Hagrid scribbled a quick note which Harry could easily read, even upside down.

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Given Harry his letter.

Taking him to buy his things tomorrow.

Weather's horrible. Hope you're well.

Hagrid

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl [which clamped it in its beak], and tossed the owl out the door and into the storm. Harry briefly wondered if that counted as animal abuse.

"Where was I?" Hagrid asked. At that moment, a very red-faced Uncle Vernon stood up.

"He's not going!" He said.

Hagrid grunted. "I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him." He replied.

"A what?" Harry asked. Muggle sounded a bit like a swear word.

"A Muggle." Said Hagrid. "It's what we call nonmagic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took him in we'd put a stop to that rubbish." Said Uncle Vernon. "Swore we'd stamp it out of him! Wizard indeed!"

Harry's mouth dropped open.

Until that very moment, Harry hadn't truly believed a word Hagrid had said. But if Uncle Vernon believed he was a wizard, well, Harry would certainly take the time to think about it. It wasn't that hard, either—all the times something strange had happened; his teacher's wig turning blue, suddenly appearing on top of the school roof when escaping from Dudley, talking to the snakes at the zoo when Ms. Anthony brought him there.

"You knew?" Harry said furiously. "You knew I was a wizard?!"

Knew!" Shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "Knew! Of course we knew! How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that—that school—and came home every holiday with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was—a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. Harry deeply wanted to step in and say something, but he had a feeling that Aunt Petunia had wanted to say this for years.

"Then she met that Potter at school and they left and got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as—as—abnormal—and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

Harry grew white with anger. He took a deep breath, trying to remember the training that Ms. Anthony had drilled into him; never show your anger. Remain calm. "Blown up?" He asked. "You told me they died in a car crash!"

"CAR CRASH!" Hagrid roared, jumping to his feet. The Dursleys cowered back in terror. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage! A scandal! Harry Potter not knowin' his own story when every kid in our world knows his name!"

"But why?" Harry demanded. "What happened?"

The anger faded from Hagrid's face. The giant man suddenly looked anxious.

"I never expected this," he said in a low voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble getting' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah, Harry, I don't know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh—but someone's gotta—yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

He threw a nasty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh—mind, I can't tell yeh everythin', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it…"

Hagrid sat down, stared into the fire for a moment, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with—with a person called—but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows—"

"Who?" Harry asked impatiently.

"Well—I don't like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?"

"Gulpin' Gargoyles, Harry, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See, there was this wizard who went…bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was…"

Hagrid gulped, but no words came out.

"Can you write it down," Harry asked. "If you can't say it?"

"Nah—can't spell it. All right—Voldemort." He shuddered. "Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this—this wizard, about twenty years ago now, started lookin' fer followers. Got 'em, too—some were afraid, some just wanted a bit o' his power, 'cause he was getting himself power, all right. Dark days, Harry. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with strange wizards or witches…terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him—an' he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway.

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before…probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark side.

"Maybe he though he could persuade 'em…maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an'—an'—"

Hagrid suddenly reached into his coat for a dirty, spotted handkerchief, and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's that sad—knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find—anyway…You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then—an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing—he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But he couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh—took care of yer mum an' dad an' yer house, even—but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Harry. No one ever ;lived after he decided to kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some of the best witches an' wizards of the age—the McKinnons, the Bones—an' you was only a baby, an' you lived."

As much as Harry was trying to pay attention to the unbelievable story, something very painful was going on in his head.

Hagrid, who was watching him sadly, went to say something, but Harry cut him off.

"There was a green light. I know that, because I always see it in my nightmares. And something else—he was laughing. My parents' killer, he was laughing."

Hagrid froze. "Yeh—yeh remember? Blimey, Harry…do yeh—do yeh remember anything else?"

Harry shook his head.

"Ah well, probably fer the best. Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot…"

"Load of old tosh." Said Uncle Vernon, interrupting as Harry opened his mouth. Uncle Vernon was glaring at Hagrid; his face was beet red, and his hands were clenched into fists.

"Now, you listen here, boy," he snarled. "I accept there's something strange about you—probably nothing a good beating wouldn't have cured—and as for all this about your parents, well, they were weirdoes, no denying it, and the world's better off without them in my opinion—asked for all they got, getting mixed up with these wizarding types—just what I expected, always knew they'd come to a sticky end—"

Harry's mouth had dropped open. He would have argued with Uncle Vernon—he had been more and more troublesome for the Dursleys after Ms. Anthony took him in, which was why they sent him over so often, so they didn't have to deal with him—but Hagrid jumped to his feet again, this time drawing a pink umbrella from his coat.

Hagrid pointed the umbrella at the Dursleys like a sword, and said, "I'm warning you, Dursley—I'm warning you—one more word…"

In danger of being speared on the end of a pink umbrella by a hairy giant, Uncle Vernon's courage failed again.

"That's better." Said Hagrid, sitting back down.

Harry turned to face him. "But what happened to Vol—er, You-Know-Who, then?"

"Good question, Harry. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry, see…he was getting more an' more powerful—why'd he go? Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who was on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kinda trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was comin' back. Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak ter carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Harry. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on—I dunno what it was, no one does—but somethin' about you stumped him, all right."

Hagrid looked at Harry with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes, but Harry, wide awake, felt bitter. All right. He could be a wizard. He'd accept that much. But a one year old kid taking down the most evil wizard of the time? What were these people thinking?

Harry took a deep breath, and looked down at the floor. He didn't want to meet Hagrid's kind gaze incase Harry got too angry. "So, I'm famous? He asked.

Hagrid nodded, grinning.

"So why…" Harry asked slowly. "Did I never know?"

Hagrid looked confused. "What do yeh mean?"

"Why did no one ever check on me? In ten years, I was bullied, and neglected, and treated like an animal. I'm lucky the Dursleys never beat me. Probably just too scared to do it. So why didn't anyone come to find out? Someone must have known where I was. You did. Why did you never come, Hagrid? Why wait 'til now to tell me the truth?"

Hagrid blinked. "Er—"

"I have never received letters, or met someone who appeared to know me, but you say that every child in your world knows my name? I didn't even know my PARENTS' names until TONIGHT! Where were you? Why didn't you come sooner? Those bloody letters have been coming for TWO WEEKS!"

Hagrid looked shocked. "Harry, Professor Dumbledore told me that it wasn't a good idea fer yeh to know yeh were famous. He wanted yeh to have a normal childhood, to grow up away from our world."

"So. I was supposed to go to this school, knowing almost nothing about wizards? What was your childhood, Hagrid? Was it normal? What is a wizard's normal childhood? I'm pretty sure that if both my parents were magical, wouldn't it have been normal for me to grow up actually knowing about magic?"

"Er—"

"And I didn't exactly have a happy childhood. I was miserable until the librarian took me in. Miserable! I had to cook every meal when I was six years old! I had to do all the chores around the house, because 'ickle Duddykins' couldn't be bothered to stress himself, or hurt himself!"

Hagrid looked ashamed. "Sorry, Harry. Dumbledore told me to put yeh at the Dursleys."

Harry almost snapped at that. Wasn't Dumbledore the headmaster? What business did he have in Harry's life? Was there no one else to take him in? Other family, or maybe his parents' friends? If Hagrid had known them, and if they were as nice as he said, wouldn't they have had friends that could have taken him?

Uncle Vernon decided that was the time to step in again. "Haven't I told you he's not going?" He hissed. "He's going to Stonewall High and he'll be grateful for it. I've read those letters and he needs all sorts of rubbish—spell books and wands and—"

"If he wants ter go, a great Muggle like you won't stop him." Hagrid growled. "Stop Lily an' James Potter's son goin' ter Hogwarts! Yer mad. His name's been down ever since he was born. He's off to the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world. Seven years there and he won't know himself. He'll be with youngsters of his own sort, fer a change, an' he'll be under the greatest headmaster Hogwarts ever had, Albus Dumbledore—"

"I AM NOT PAYING FOR SOME CRACKPOT OLD FOOL TO TEACH HIM MAGIC TRICKS!" Yelled Uncle Vernon.

But he had finally gone too far. Harry hid a grin as Hagrid seized his umbrella and whirled it over his head. "NEVER—INSULT—ALBUS—DUMBLEDORE—IN—FRONT—OF—ME!"

Hagrid brought the umbrella down through the air and pointed it at Dudley. There was a flash of light, a sharp bang, a squeal, and the next second Dudley was dancing around the room with his hands clamped on his bottom, howling in pain. As he turned around, Harry snickered to see a curly pig's tail growing out of his cousin's trousers.

Uncle Vernon roared like a bull. He grabbed Aunt Petunia and Dudley, and pulled them away into the other room, slamming the door behind them.

Hagrid eyed his umbrella and stroked his beard. "Shouldn'ta lost me temper." He said ruefully. "But it didn't work anyway. Meant ter turn him into a pig, but I suppose he was so much like a pig anyway there wasn't much left ter do." He cast a sideways glance at harry. "Be grateful if yeh didn't mention that ter anyone at Hogwarts." He said. "I'm—er—not supposed ter do magic, strictly speakin'. I was allowed ter do a bit ter follow yeh an' get yer letters to yeh an' stuff—one o' the reasons I was so keen ter take on the job—"

"Why aren't you supposed to do magic?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Oh, well—I was at Hogwarts meself but I—er—got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand and everything. But Dumbledore let me stay on as gamekeeper. Great man, Dumbledore."

Harry doubted that this Dumbledore was as great as Hagrid said, but decided not to voice that in fear of gaining a tail.

"Why were you expelled?"

"It's getting' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow." Said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."

He shrugged off his coat and threw it to Harry, who promptly collapsed under the weight.

"Yeh can kip under that." He said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit, I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."

Harry shuddered.


	3. The Blacks and the Prewetts

Harry woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes tightly shut.

The sun was shining down on him, early morning light burning through his eyelids. He rolled over, and snuggled deeper down into the thick, heavy blanket he was wearing. Hold on—that wasn’t a blanket!

He rolled over again so that he was laying on his back, and pushed Hagrid’s coat off of him. He sat up. Apparently the storm had run itself out overnight; the sky appeared relatively clear. Hagrid was sleeping on the couch, arms and legs hanging off the sides. The Dursleys were nowhere in sight; Harry guessed they were too scared to leave the other room until Hagrid left.

As Harry blinked the sleep out of his eyes, he heard a tapping. There was an owl there, much like the one Hagrid had thrown out into the storm last night, clutching a newspaper in its beak. It was tapping persistently on the window.

Harry stood up slowly, stretched, and let the owl in. It did a lap around the room, and then dropped the paper on Hagrid, who didn’t twitch. The bird then flew across the room and started attacking Hagrid’s coat.

Harry watched in shocked silence for a minute, trying to figure out what the bird was doing. After watching it for a few moments, he said, “Hagrid? There’s an owl attacking your coat.”

“Pay him.” Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

“What?” Harry asked. Did the owl want food? Was that what Hagrid meant?

“He wants payin’ fer deliverin’ the paper. Look in the pockets.”

On closer inspection, Hagrid’s coat seemed to be nothing _but_ pockets; bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, small candies, teabags…finally, Harry pulled out a handful of strange looking coins, which he eyed with interest. Did wizards have their own currency?

“Give him five Knuts.” Hagrid said sleepily.

“Knuts?”

“The little bronze ones.”

Harry counted out five little bronze coins, which were apparently called ‘Knuts’. The owl held out his leg, and Harry put the money in a small leather pouch. Then the owl flew off out the still open window.

Hagrid had started getting up. Harry asked him, “Hagrid? Are the owls trained?”

Hagrid looked at him blearily for a moment. “What do yeh mean?”

“They seem really smart. Do wizards train them to deliver mail?”

“Er—” Hagrid looked confused. “Dunno. Don’ think so. I’m pretty sure they jus’ know what ter do, an’ where ter go, if yeh know what I mean.”

“So they’re not regular owls? Are they magic? Are there any other animals that are super smart like that?” If an owl could be trained to deliver mail like a pigeon, who knew what other animals could do? Harry already knew that snakes were extremely smart; now owls, what next?

“Er—yeah, I suppose they’re magic. Dunno.”

Harry sighed as Hagrid stood up and stretched. It seemed he wasn’t getting a straight answer again.

“Hagrid?”

“Yeah, Harry?”

“Are there any other animals in the wizard world?” Maybe if he went with an easy, basic question, Hagrid would give him an answer.

“Well o’ course there are!” Hagrid boomed, looking shocked and awake. “There’s cats, an’ dogs, an’ all the other stuff Muggles got, isn’t there?”

“Anything else?” Harry demanded.

“Why sure.” Hagrid said, strolling over to pick up his coat. “There’s kneazles, an’ crups, and lots o’ littler things too—personally, I like the big ones.” He said excitedly. Harry looked up. “Dragons, an’ such. I always wanted a dragon.” He said wistfully, staring dreamily.

Harry wasn’t sure what to make of that. “Er—ok.” He said quickly, and handed the remaining coins back to Hagrid, who took them with a yawn.

“Best be off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an’ buy all yer stuff fer school.”

Harry panicked for a moment. Buy school supplies? Of COURSE he’d need school supplies. Hadn’t Uncle Vernon mentioned—what was it—spell books and wands? How was he supposed to pay for that? He was sure Ms. Anthony would get anything he needed, but she was all the way in Surrey, and Hagrid was taking him now. Why was Hagrid taking him, anyway? As his guardians, weren’t the Dursleys ‘supposed’ to do that? Even if they didn’t, could Hagrid really just take him away? Maybe people who weren’t magic—Muggles, Harry reminded himself sourly, still thinking it sounded like a curse word—couldn’t go to wizard places?

“Um—Hagrid?”

“Mm?” Answered Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.

“I haven’t got any money—and the Dursleys won’t exactly be charitable to me—what exactly are you planning?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. “D’eyh think yer parents didn’t leave yeh anything?”

“But if their house was destroyed—” Harry began.

“They didn’t keep their gold in their house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards’ bank. Have a sausage, they’re not bad cold—an’ I wouldn’t say no teh a bit o’ yer birthday cake, neither.”

“Wizards have banks?” Harry asked, surprised. He hadn’t really thought about it, but it made sense.

“Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins.”

Harry dropped the bit of sausage he was holding. “Goblins?!”

“Yeah—so yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it, I’ll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harry. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe—‘cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o’ fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business.” Hagrid drew himself up proudly. “He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin’ you—getting’ things from Gringotts—knows he can trust me, see.”

Harry chose to ignore the comment about Hagrid picking him up. He didn’t need to be crabby this early in the morning. “Why is Hogwarts one of the safest places? I mean, it’s just a school, right?”

“Cause Dumbledore’s there, o’ course! No one would dare try an’ get past him!” Hagrid said proudly. Harry only nodded, feeling cynical and hungry. How Hagrid could stomach the cold sausage, he had no idea.

“Got everythin’? Come on, then.” Hagrid strolled out onto the rock, Harry following behind.

The sky was quite clear now, and the sea gleamed painfully in the sunlight. The smell of salt and seaweed was so strong Harry wanted to gag. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was somehow still there, although it was filled with water after the storm.

“How did you get here?” Harry asked, looking around for another boat—or maybe a broomstick. Although he doubted Hagrid would fit on any broomstick, even a magic one.

“Flew.”

Ok…so maybe the broomstick theory wasn’t that farfetched.

“But we’ll go back in this. Not s’pposed ter use magic now I’ve got yeh.”

They settled in the boat after Hagrid lifted it easily and poured all the water out. Even with his giant size, Harry was shocked at seeing Hagrid lift the boat as if it was no heavier than a paperweight. He briefly wondered how the Dursleys would get back, but turned the thought away. Let them figure it out. That, and Dudley’s tail.

“Seems a shame ter row, though,” said Hagrid, giving Harry another of his sideways looks. “If I was ter—er—speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin’ it at Hogwarts?”

Harry shrugged, not really caring one way or the other if Hagrid was allowed to do magic or not, but eager to see some. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again—hadn’t he said his wand had been snapped?—tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off towards—presumably—land.

“Why would you have to be mad to rob Gringotts?” Harry asked curiously as they sped underway.

“Spells—enchantments.” Answered Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper. Harry resisted the urge to say, ‘Well, duh!’ “They say there’s dragons guardin’ the high security vaults. An’ then yeh got ter find yer way—Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh’d die of hunger tryin’ ter get out, even if yeh did manage ter get yer hands on summat.”

Harry sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper, _The Daily Prophet_. Harry had learned from Uncle Vernon that people liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult, as he felt he’d never had so many questions to ask before.

“Ministry o’ Magic messin’ things up as usual.” Hagrid muttered, turning a page.

“There’s a Ministry of Magic?” Harry asked.

“Course,” said Hagrid. “They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o’ course, but he’d never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was one. So he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin’ fer advice.”

Interesting, Harry thought. So Dumbledore turned down the post, but still plays the part? “What does the Ministry do?”

“Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there’s still witches an’ wizards up an’ down the country.”

“Why?”

“ _Why_? Blimey, Harry, everyone’d be wantin’ magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we’re best left alone.”

At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newspaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street.

Hagrid attracted a lot of stares as they walked along, and Harry couldn’t blame the passerby. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as everyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly normal things like parking meters and saying loudly, “See that, Harry? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?”

“Hagrid,” Harry said, panting a bit as he ran to keep up. “I thought you said it’s important that Muggles don’t find out about magic?”

“Well o’ course it’s important that they don’t!” Hagrid said.

“Then why are you shouting about perfectly normal Muggle things for the whole world to hear?”

“Er—” Hagrid looked puzzled for a moment. “Never mind, Harry—here we go.”

They had reached the station. There was a train to London in five minutes time. Hagrid, who didn’t understand ‘Muggle money’, gave the bills to Harry to buy their tickets.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up to seats and sat knitting, much to Harry’s amusement, what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.

“Still got yer letter, Harry?” He asked as he counted stitches.

Harry took the parchment envelope out of his pocket.

“Good,” said Hagrid. “There’s a list of everything yeh need.”

Harry unfolded a second piece of paper he hadn’t noticed the night before, and read:

Hogwarts School

 _of_ Witchcraft _and_ Wizardry

∫

UNIFORM

First year students will require:

  1. Three sets of plain work robes [black]
  2. One plain pointed hat [black] for day wear
  3. One pair of protective gloves [dragon hide or similar]
  4. One winter cloak [black, silver fastenings]



Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

 _The Standard Book of Spells [Grade 1]_ by Miranda Goshawk

 _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

 _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

 _A Beginners’ Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore

 _Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron pewter, standard size 2]

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

“Can we buy all this in London?” Harry wondered.

“If yeh know where to go,” said Hagrid.

~§~

Harry had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains were too slow.

Harry tried to keep him quiet at first, and eventually gave up. If Hagrid wanted to get in trouble by shouting like that, well, Harry would just slip quietly away and find someone else to help him with this magic stuff.

“I don’t know how the Muggles manage without magic,” Hagrid said as they climbed broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crown easily; all Harry had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street filled with ordinary, non-magical people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them? Were there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks?

“This is it,” said Hagrid, coming to a halt. “The Leaky Cauldron. It’s a famous place.”

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn’t pointed it out, Harry wouldn’t have even noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn’t glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big bookshop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn’t see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Harry had the most peculiar feeling that only he and Hagrid could see it. Was it hidden by magic? Before he could ask, Hagrid had steered him inside.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, “The usual, Hagrid?”

“Can’t, Tom, I’m on Hogwarts business,” said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harry’s shoulder which made his knees buckle painfully.

“Good lord,” said the bartender, peering at Harry. “Is this—can it be?”

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent. Harry had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what happened next.

“Bless my soul,” whispered the old bartender. “Harry Potter…what an honor.”

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harry and seized his hand, tears in his eyes.

“Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back!”

Harry wasn’t quite sure what to say. Everyone was looking at him. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

“Er—hi?” Harry said timidly.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the bar.

“Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can’t believe I’m meeting you at last.”

“So proud, Mr. Potter, I’m just so proud.”

“Always wanted to shake your hand—I’m all of a flutter.”

“Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can’t tell you, Diggle’s the name, Dedalus Diggle.”

Harry shook hands again and again, nodding politely and wishing it was over. If Ms. Anthony were here, she would have whisked him away from all this, complete strangers coming and saying hello like that—Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.

“Professor Quirrell!” Said Hagrid. “Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts.”

“P-P-Potter,” stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry’s hand. “C-can’t tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you.”

“What classes do you teach, Professor?” Harry asked.

“D-defense Against the D-dark Arts,” muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he’d rather not think about it. “N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?” He laughed nervously. “You’ll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I’ve g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself.” He looked terrified at the very thought.

Harry frowned to himself, briefly wondering what kind of teachers Hogwarts had. If Hagrid, who he supposed technically wasn’t a teacher, and Professor Quirrell were any example, Harry wasn’t too sure he’d learn all that much. A Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who was scared of a vampire book?

The others wouldn’t let Professor Quirrell keep Harry to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.

“Must get on—lots ter buy. Come on, Harry.”

Doris Crockford shook Harry’s hand one last time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.

Hagrid grinned at Harry.

“Told yeh, didn’t I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin’ ter meet yeh—mind you, he’s usually tremblin’.”

Harry dug his feet into the ground, coming to a stop. “Why didn’t you warn me?” He snapped.

Hagrid blinked. “What?”

“You told me I was famous. Famous for what? Surviving the night when my parents were murdered. So why, exactly, Hagrid, did you not warn me that people would be so enthused to meet me? I just got mobbed!”

Hagrid shrugged it off, making Harry grow even angrier. “I told yeh, Harry, yeh’re famous fer killin’ You-Know-Who, an’ that’s why people like yeh.”

“You said Voldemort wasn’t dead.” Harry accused, making Hagrid wince at the name. “Just weakened and hiding.”

“Eh—” Hagrid started counting bricks above the trash can. “Three up…two across…” he muttered, ignoring the question. “Right, stand back, Harry.”

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he had touched quivered—it grew wider and wider—a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight. Harry’s eyes widened, and his mouth dropped open, anger forgotten.

“Welcome,” said Hagrid. “To Diagon Alley.”

He grinned at Harry’s amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harry looked over his shoulder and saw the archway shrink back into a solid wall.

The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons—All Sizes—Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver—Self-Stirring—Collapsible, said a sign hanging over them.

“Yeah, you’ll be needin’ one,” said Hagrid, “but we gotta get yer money first.”

Harry wished he had about eight more eyes. He turned his head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once; the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as they passed, saying, “Dragon liver, seventeen Sickles an ounce, they’re mad…”

A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium—Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Harry’s age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. “Look,” Harry heard one say. “The new Nimbus Two Thousand—fastest ever—” There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange sliver instruments Harry had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eel’s eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon…

Ms. Anthony would have loved this.

“Gringotts,” said Hagrid proudly, pointing ahead.

They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a bright uniform of scarlet and gold, was—

“Yeah, that’s a goblin.” Said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harry. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure which was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware,_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

“Like I said, yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it,” said Hagrid.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors, and then they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these.

Hagrid and Harry made for the counter.

“Morning,” said Hagrid to a free teller. “We’ve come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter’s safe.”

“You have his key, sir?” The goblin was blunt but polite, although he eyed Harry curiously when Hagrid mentioned his name.

“Got it here somewhere,” said Hagrid, emptying his pockets on the counter. Harry raised an eyebrow as Hagrid dumped a pile of moldy dog biscuits on the goblin’s book of numbers. Hagrid had the key to Harry’s money?

“Got it.” Said Hagrid, laying a tiny golden key on the counter.

The goblin peered at it closely. “That seems to be in order.”

Harry snatched the key off the counter before Hagrid could take it back. The giant was ruffling through his pockets again, handing the goblin something from Dumbledore, and didn’t notice Harry swiping the key.

It was small and unimpressive, but Harry felt a certain glow from holding it. It was his. Something from his parents. Even if it was just money for school, they had wanted him to have it.

The goblin was saying something to Hagrid. “Very well. I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!”

Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back into his pockets, he and Harry followed the goblin towards one of the doors leading off the hall.

“What’s in the other vault?” Harry asked.

“Can’t tell yeh that,” Hagrid said mysteriously. “Very secret. Hogwarts’ business. Dumbledore’s trusted me. More’n my job’s worth ter tell yeh that.”

Harry shrugged in response. He had been curious, but he wouldn’t go prying into other people’s business.

Griphook held the door open for them. Harry, who had been expecting more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railways tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled loudly and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in—Hagrid with some difficulty—and were off.

They hurtled along a maze of twisting passages at breakneck speed. The cart seemed to know the way, as Griphook certainly wasn’t steering. Harry was reminded of a roller coaster, as he tried and failed to keep track of the many twists and turns.

His eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them. Once he thought he saw a burst of fire, and eagerly looked for a dragon, but they had already passed. They entered a cavern, passing an underground lake.

Harry glanced at Hagrid, who hadn’t said a word the entire trip. He was tinged green, and looked like he was going to be sick. When the cart stopped beside a small door in the wall, Hagrid got out and leaned against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.

Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry’s eyes widened. Inside were mounds of coins; gold, silver, and bronze.

“All yours,” Hagrid smiled.

As Harry blinked, he was suddenly glad the Dursleys didn’t know about this. Gold was gold, even wizard gold, and he was sure they wouldn’t have hesitated to empty his vault if they had known about it.

Hagrid helped Harry pile some of the coins into a bag.

“The gold ones are Galleons,” he explained. “Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle; it’s easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o’ terms, we’ll keep the rest safe for yeh.” He turned to Griphook. “Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?”

“One speed only.” Replied the goblin in a monotone.

As they went even deeper, Harry was trying to remember the wizard money—seventeen Sickles to a Galleon, twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle—Hagrid thought it was easy? It made no sense to Harry. He wondered how much was in the vault, and how many pounds equaled a Galleon. Did Gringotts do conversions to Muggle money? Harry might have to look into that. It would be nice to have some spare money around sometimes, even if he’d have to hide it from the Dursleys.

Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole. “Stand back,” said Griphook. He stroked the door with a long finger, and it simply melted away. Harry raised an eyebrow, impressed.

“If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they’d be sucked through the door and trapped in there.” Said Griphook.

“How often do you check to see if anyone’s inside?” Harry asked.

“About once every ten years.” Replied the goblin with a rather nasty smile.

Harry peered around Hagrid to see what was in the vault. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting—it was a high security vault, but it did belong to the headmaster of a school, maybe it held rare books?—but the only thing that was there was a grubby little package wrapped in brown paper. Hagrid plucked it up and stuffed it in one of his pockets.

“Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don’t talk ter me on the way back, it’s best I keep me mouth shut.” Said Hagrid.

~§~

One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Harry was still a little shocked after seeing his vault, but he was excited to see the rest of the alley.

“Might as well get yer uniform,” said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions. “Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts.” He did look quite green still.

“All right.” Harry said amiably. “Actually, Hagrid, can I come too? I didn’t really eat much this morning.” Half a cold sausage and a bite of squashed birthday cake weren’t the most filling meal.

Hagrid smiled at him. “Why, sure yeh can, Harry!”

A moment later they were back in the Leaky Cauldron. There weren’t as many people in it this time around, and Harry had made sure to cover his scar with his bangs. Hagrid immediately made his way to the counter, where Tom gave Harry a subtle wink, and started filling a large glass.

Harry was standing off to the side of the counter, waiting to ask for food. Unaware of his celebrity status, the other customers of the Leaky Cauldron were ignoring him. The old women and Dedalus Diggle were gone, as was Professor Quirrell. Doris Crockford was gone as well, but there were several new people to make up for their loss.

There was a small gaggle of serious-looking wizards and witches sitting at a large table near the middle of the room. They were discussing something quietly, but seemed to be arguing about it. Sitting at the counter with Hagrid were two little old men, both of which kept asking Tom to top off their glasses. Along the back wall in a dark corner were three tall wizards sitting with a few teenagers. Harry couldn’t see them very well from his vantage point, but they appeared to be eating lunch.

Harry started to step up to the counter to ask for a sandwich when someone crashed into him from behind. He heard a wild curse, and would have hit the floor when someone grabbed hold of his shirt collar and yanked him upright.

He spun around, and saw two of the teens who had been sitting in the back. The one who had run into him was covered in freckles and had bright red hair, and was rubbing his elbow, which Harry assumed had been knocked against the wall. The other boy had black hair, pale skin, and crystal blue eyes.

“Sorry about that.” The black haired boy offered. “We weren’t watching where we were going.”

“Yeah,” the other one added, “sorry.”

“That’s all right.” Harry said quickly.

The black haired boy nodded politely at him, and poked his friend. “We should introduce ourselves. I’m Rigel Black, and this oaf is Fred Weasley.”

They held out their hands, which Harry shook.

“I’m Harry Potter.” Harry winced, expecting a reaction. He was pleasantly surprised when all that the boys did was widen their eyes slightly, and look impressed.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Potter.” Fred said, a large smile upon his face. “Call me Fred, and him Rigel.”

“Er—” Harry assumed the invitation to call them by their first names was some sort of wizard etiquette. “Ok. Call me Harry, then.”

Rigel frowned slightly at him, but Fred seemed pleased. “Getting your school supplies?” The redhead asked.

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. “You too?”

Fred shook his head. “No. We’re here with our uncles, they needed new cauldrons. We’ll be getting our stuff next week.”

“Who are you here with?” Rigel interrupted his friend brusquely. Fred turned to stare at him, looking surprised, Harry guessed, at the direct rudeness of the question.

“I’m here with Rubeus Hagrid.” Harry said, pointing. “He’s showing me around. We stopped for lunch. Apparently, Gringotts carts don’t agree with him.”

Rigel’s eyebrows jumped up, and Fred spun back around to stare at Harry. “Hagrid? Why not your guardians?”

Harry snorted. “My relatives don’t like magic, and the woman who takes care of me doesn’t know about it. I only found out about it yesterday, myself.” He froze, wondering for a moment if he shouldn’t have said anything. The looks on the teens’ faces was pure shock.

“Er—I don’t mean to sound like I’m prying,” Fred said slowly. “But why were you raised by relatives who don’t like magic, never told you about it, and let someone else take care of you?”

Harry shrugged. “I have no idea.”

Rigel frowned. “That’ll be why Hagrid took you to Gringotts, then. So you could look at the Potter Wills, and see if there was anywhere else you could go?”

Harry’s mouth dropped. “Wills? My parents had wills? What do you mean? I only got some money out of my vault to buy a few things.”

Fred held up a hand. “Wait. You’re saying you only saw one vault?”

Harry looked at him, shocked. “I have more than one?”

Rigel looked at him, concerned. “How many keys did you have?”

“Hagrid only gave the goblins one, but I snagged it before he could take it back. How many should there be?”

“Hagrid had the—Harry, I think you should talk to our uncles. The only vaults which have a key are the trust vaults, and the only person who should have had it are your guardians. The ones appointed by your parents, not the ones you were raised with. Goblins are crabby little things, but they take their job seriously. They wouldn’t hand the key off to just anyone without a very good reason.”

Harry’s eyes widened. What—had someone been stealing from him? His _trust_ vault? There was more than one? Why had Hagrid had the key? The Dursleys weren’t his guardians? Had his true guardian had the key, or someone else? Who was his true guardian? Why hadn’t anyone said anything about his parents’ wills before? Why hadn’t he known any of this?

“Ok.” He agreed almost desperately. “Will they be able to tell me anything?”

Fred laughed. “Harry, my uncles are the Lords Prewett, heads of House Prewett, with seats on the Wizengamot and an old bloodline. Rigel’s uncle is Lord Black, with the same titles and a bloodline just as old. If anyone can help you, it’ll be them. Plus,” he added as an afterthought, “I’m pretty sure Uncle Regulus’ brother knew your parents, so he should be honored to help.”

Harry was shocked into silence. Lords? Wizengamot? Houses? Bloodlines?

“All right. Where are they?”

~§~

Fred and Rigel led him to the back of the Leaky Cauldron, where he was introduced to their respective twins, George and Aries. They then introduced him to their uncles.

Gideon and Fabian Prewett were tall, with fiery red hair, dozens of freckles, and deep brown eyes. Regulus Black was also tall, but had shockingly pale skin and cold blue eyes. All three of them looked eerily like their nephews.

“Honored to meet you, Mr. Potter.”  Mr. Black nodded to Harry. “Would you care to dine with us?”

“Er—” Harry wasn’t sure what the correct response was, but Mr. Black had asked, and Harry was hungry. “Yes, please.”

“Tom!” One of the Prewetts, the one with a long scar on his cheek, called for the bartender, who hurried over. “This young gentlemen is going to be dining with us.” Turning to Harry, he asked, “I’m afraid this won’t be very formal. A sandwich alright?” At Harry’s exuberant nod, Tom hurried away.

“So.” Mr. Black intertwined his fingers and placed his elbows thoughtfully on the table top. “Boys? Is there a particular reason you invited Mr. Potter over here, or is this a social visit?”

Fred leaned across the table. “Uncle Regulus, he’s here for his school stuff, and _Hagrid’s_ taking him! What’s more, he’s lived with these horrid sounding Muggles and didn’t even know about magic ‘til yesterday, and—”

Rigel cut him off. “He didn’t even know he had any money, thought his trust vault was all, he didn’t even know his parents left wills!”

“And Hagrid had the key, which doesn’t make sense, and he doesn’t know who his guardian is, and I don’t think he’s been checked up on, I mean, he didn’t know about magic, what else? And—”

“Those Muggles sounded just _awful_ and he said that even though he lives with them, someone else takes care of him, and I don’t—”

 One of the Prewetts slammed his hand down on the table. “Quiet!”

The two teens stopped talking, both midsentence with their mouths hanging open, and their twins watching them, baffled.

The other Prewett waved his wand. “There. I hope no one minds some privacy spells. Now, would someone care to explain _exactly_ what that was all about?”

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat between Fred and Rigel. The former looked at him encouragingly.

Rigel bowed his head, clearly thinking. “All right. Fred here decided it would be nice to crash into Harry and fall into the wall. Harry mentioned that he was here for school supplies, and that Hagrid had brought him. He then said that he’s been raised by Muggles who hate magic, and that someone else, another Muggle, takes care of him. He didn’t even know about magic until yesterday, so I’m also guessing that he didn’t know about his fame.” He glanced at Harry for confirmation.

Fred continued. “He said he’d been to visit his vault, which we took to mean trust vault. He said that Hagrid had had the key, and that he didn’t even know that he had more than one vault, or that his parents had made wills.”

Harry shrunk a little in his seat as all the occupants of the table turned to stare at him. Mr. Black in particular seemed to be extraordinarily angry, if the tight lines on his face were anything to go by.

Gideon Prewett sighed. “All right. Mr. Potter, we don’t know anything about your situation, other than that things were clearly handled illegally. We can try and help, but we’re going to need information in order to return it. Understand?”

Harry nodded slowly. “Yes. But—” He paused, not wanting to sound rude to the men when Fred and Rigel had been so nice to him.

“But what?” George prompted.

“Er—why would you help me?” Harry asked. “And why should I trust you?”

The three men looked at him approvingly.

“Well, it’s nice to know you have some common sense.” Mr. Black said. “I will help you because my brother was one of your father’s best friends, and I will honor that relationship. Also, as a prominent member of the Wizengamot, it is my duty to help an heir to a line as powerful as the Potters. As for trusting us, that’s entirely up to you. We will be honest, and deal accordingly with any illegal activities surrounding you. The Prewetts are allied to House Black, and will help you simply because I will. They are however also bound to assist because they are also on the Wizengamot. Are you willing to let us help you?”

Harry narrowed his eyes. If Mr. Black’s brother was a friend of his dad’s, then what had happened to him? Would they really only help him because of—what was a ‘line’ anyway? And did him being the famous Harry Potter have anything to do with it?

“Ok. What’s the Wizengamot?”

Eyebrows were raised all around the table. The Prewetts waited until Tom had dropped off Harry’s sandwich, then said, “I forgot you said you’d been raised ignorant of wizards. The Wizengamot is one of the ruling government bodies. It is made up of old, powerful wizard families, and it’s what makes the laws that the Ministry then enforces. You do know about the Ministry?”

“Yeah, Hagrid mentioned it. He said the Minister, Fudge or something, was a real bungler, and always asked Dumbledore for help?”

There were snickers. “Cornelius Fudge is much like the Ministry—corruptible. He’s a fine talker as well, that’s what got him the position.”

“Ok. So, how are we going to do this? Can I just ask questions, or will you ask questions, and answer mine as we go along?”

The three men looked at each other. Fabian Prewett shrugged. “Fine by me. Should we send the kids off while we do this? Might take a while, the bloody-boy-who-lived knowing zilch about wizards.”

There were immediate protests.

“We’re the ones who found him!” Fred said. “We should be allowed to stay.”

“We might be able to help! We know stuff, too!” Aries pleaded.

“Please let us stay?” Rigel requested. “This should be fun, and we can even do a bloody essay on it if you want, if it means we can stay.”

“Come on, it can’t hurt, right? I mean, does Harry have a problem with it?” George asked.

“I’m fine with it.” Harry said quickly. “I’ve never really talked to other kids before.”

That seemed to seal the deal. The four teens could stay, so long as they were quiet. The Prewetts conjured up a Muggle notepad and something they called a ‘dicta-quill’, saying that this way they’d make sure not to miss anything important. Apparently they had once been Aurors, the magical equivalent of police, and they had a feeling this would make a case.

“First, who raised you?” Mr. Black wanted to know.

“Um, the Dursleys.” Harry answered. “Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley.”

“Who’s Dudley?”

“My cousin.”

“How is old is he?”

“A few months older than me.”

“Are you related to your aunt or uncle?”

“Aunt Petunia was my mom’s sister.”

“You said they raised you, but didn’t take care of you. Care to explain that?”

Harry shrugged. A long time ago, he had never liked to talk about the Dursleys, but knowing that at least one person [Ms. Anthony] would do anything for him had caused him to open up in the hopes that maybe someone could properly punish them. One of the plots he and Ms. Anthony had come up with was to tell any person who asked about the Dursleys, to see whether they forgot, or actually helped. Maybe the wizards would have a better chance than the child care officers.

“I lived in a cupboard under the stairs for years. I had to do all the chores, and cook all the meals, and wasn’t allowed seconds at the table. If I made a mistake, I got yelled at, and if I ever used magic, I was called a freak and locked in my cupboard. Dudley and his friends always bullied me, and the Dursleys never hit me themselves, but they encouraged him to. Dudley never let other kids near me, so I never had any friends, and for a long time I wasn’t allowed to get better grades then him. I was only allowed to wear his old clothes, which were ripped or stained and about five sizes too big.”

The dicta-quill was scratching across the pad madly, spraying ink over the table. Everyone stared at him.

“Blimey.” Gideon said. “When we offered help, we weren’t expecting an abuse and neglect case from the boy-who-lived!”

“When did it stop?” Mr. Black asked.

“When I was eight I befriended the school librarian. She always let me hang out there, and scolded Dudley for beating me up. The year after she tricked the Dursleys into letting me come over to her place every day, and she made sure I had food and rest. They wanted to be normal in the neighborhood, so she duped them into letting me wear new shoes and pants, giving me Dudley’s second room, and stuff like that. She taught me karate, and helped me do well in school, and didn’t care if weird stuff happened around me.”

Mr. Black looked pained. “What’s her name?”

“Ms. Anthony. I mean, Ava Anthony.”

“Would she be willing to testify against them in a wizard court?” Fabian asked.

“You mean she could know about magic?”

“In some cases, yes. With your fame you could probably just ask, and the Minister would hand you the paperwork on a silver platter.”

“Oh, Rigel mentioned something about my parents having wills?”

Mr. Back nodded gravely. “They were sealed when you disappeared, but the goblins keep the original copies and allow immediate family to see them no matter what the Wizengamot says.”

Harry breathed out. “Ok, yeah. I’d like that.”

“You visited your trust vault this morning, you said?”

“Yeah, but what’s a trust vault? I mean, how’s it different from a regular vault?”

Gideon answered. “First you have to understand that there are several types of vaults, Mr. Potter. The first is the type that Muggles can open; low security that are open for schooling purposes only. The second is the trust vault. That’s usually only opened by wealthy wizard families. Those vaults are to be used only for school supplies, and sometimes a little pocket money. Next is the family vault. That’s where the family keeps all of their money. The fourth type is the House vault. Do you know what a House is?”

Harry frowned. “A place to live in?” He said uncertainly. Fred snorted, and one of the Black twins kicked him.

“All right, we’re going to have to go into a little bit of history and politics here. Stop me if it gets too confusing.”

Harry nodded his understanding.

“Magic, once in a person, tends to stay in families. There are rare cases, but we won’t worry about those. So, if a father is a wizard and the mother a witch, then it’s likely that the kids will be too. Then come the grandkids, and the great-grand kids, and next thing you know everyone in the family for a thousand years has been a witch or wizard. But it wasn’t just one family that did that; you had, say, thirty. So now there’s thirty families that have had magic for a thousand years. No one remembers if they had magic before that, or if it just randomly appeared in a Muggle child, a muggle-born. So there’s thirty families that can say, ‘Hey! Our ancestors have had magic for a thousand years, so we must be better and stronger than the ones who never had magic!’ Then these families group together, because there’s not that many of them, and they want to keep magic strong, but they need some form of government because more and more witches and wizards are popping out of nowhere, and the older families want to be in charge, so they start a group called the Wizengamot.”

“You said they make the laws.” Harry recalled.

“Yes. There’s a bit more to it than that, but that’ll suffice for now. So, you have thirty families in this group. Who’s going to be the leader? Who’s going to be the representative for each family? Father, son, mother, nephew, who will it be? And so came the Houses. Each family formed a House, and the Houses were ranked on the age of the families; Most Ancient and Noble, Ancient, Old, Lesser, Junior, Minor, and Foreign. Usually the oldest male in the direct line would take on the Lordship; father to son, that sort of thing. If the oldest didn’t want it, it went to the next. If the males were unable to do it, then the Ladies would cover for their Lords, or a regent would be made until the heir could take over. If there were no direct heirs, then the Lords could choose anyone that was related. The Lords were the political leaders of a family, and the Head of a family was the one in charge of the actual family. Following?”

“Yeah. So…a House is basically an old family with political power?”

“Close enough. Yes. That should cover them enough for now. Anyway, the House vault, or vaults, in some cases, would hold family artifacts that had been passed down from generation to generation.”

“What House did the Potters have?”

“The Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter. I am Lord and Head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black, and Gideon and Fabian are Lords and Heads of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Prewett.”

“What’s a Foreign House?”

“That would be an old family from another country. They are respected because of age, but are not particularly powerful here because their family is not from here.”

“Why do some families think that they’re better than Muggles?”

Everyone stiffened. Harry wondered if he’d done something wrong.

“Er—Harry…” George started.

“No, it’s all right.” Gideon interrupted him. “He should know. It is the foundation of our society, after all. What you have to understand, Mr. Potter, is that this is the largest issue in politics, and has been since before the founding of the Wizengamot. Some families feel they are better simply because we have been gifted with magic, and Muggles weren’t. Some families even go so far as to compare Muggles with animals. Others think the opposite; that Muggles are ingenious things for managing to do so well without magic. And others, very few others, just appreciate the simple fact that they are people just like us, and magic has very little to do with it.”

Harry frowned, remembering Hagrid in the Underground. “So lots of people think that Muggles are—inferior?”

Mr. Black spoke up. “Actually, we have a fairly solid mix at the table right now. The Blacks have been known to be a very dark family for centuries, and have always looked down upon Muggles. I personally don’t consider them inferior, as you said, I just don’t care for them very much. The Lords Prewett are two of the few that recognize Muggles as people. And the Potters were of the opinion that Muggles are amazing little creatures. Although I’m sure your father never called your mother that. Lily Evans had quite the temper.”

“So my dad was a –a Lord?”

“Yes. That would make you an heir.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Normally, heirs wouldn’t do anything until they were of age, in which case the current Lord and Head could step down, or they would wait until their predecessor passed away. Your case however is a little more complicated. As an orphaned heir with no immediate relatives, a proxy would hold your spot until you became fifteen, unless you were emancipated earlier. You would then accept the Lordship, and take control of your family’s holdings. As of now, it is up to your guardian to take proper care of you and—” Mr. Black paused. “Damn.”

Harry jumped at the sudden curse, which had attracted the startled attention of the Prewetts.

“What?” Gideon asked. “Please tell me—”

Mr. Black stood up. “I have to go. Mr. Potter, I would be honored to ask you to stay a few nights at my home?”

Harry blinked. “Er—ok.”

“Aries, Rigel, go to Grimmauld and help Kreacher prepare a guest room. Gideon, Fabian, please finish up here. There’s something I need to check.” There was a sudden pop, and Mr. Black had vanished.

Harry’s jaw dropped. ‘What was that?” He managed to ask.

“I’m not sure.” Fabian replied distantly. “He’s not usually the one to come up with harebrained schemes, so I assume it must be important.”

“No—he just vanished!”

“Oh, apparation. Yes, you’ll learn that in a few years. Now, where were we?”

“Uh—something about my guardian.”

“Oh yes.” Gideon remembered. “All right. Boys, why don’t you Floo over to Grimmauld and prepare that room? We might finish some of Harry’s shopping today and stop by around dinner. Alright?”

Harry watched in bewilderment as the teens said goodbye and hurried over to a large fireplace near the bar. They each reached up, grabbed some sort of powder, stepped into the fire, and vanished in a burst of green flame.

“What—”

“The Floo Network. Let’s you travel fireplace to fireplace so long as it’s hooked up.”

“Wicked.” Harry said in awe.

“Now—Hagrid?” Gideon started in surprise, making Harry turn and jump.

Somehow Hagrid had finished his drinking, gotten an owl, and came over to their table unnoticed.

“Hiya, Gideon, Fabian. Been a while.” He said happily. “So, Harry, saw yeh met the Prewetts and Blacks. Nice kids, they are, real nice. Anyway, I stopped out an’ got yeh a birthday present right now, figure yeh can do the rest o’ yer shopping, an’ I need ter get back ter Hogwarts. Take right good care o’ her now, Harry, an’ I’ll be seein’ yeh.”

Hagrid made his goodbyes, handed Harry the snowy owl, and hurried to the fireplace. He just barely managed to fit through it.

Harry looked at the owl. Its large golden eyes blinked at him. “Hello,” he said. “You’re very pretty.”

“Hagrid has good taste.” Fabian nodded at the bird. “She’s a smart one, and won’t be easily hindered from her job. Are you going to name her?”

“I think I’ll wait. I’ve never had a pet before, so I want her to have a really good name.”

The redhead shrugged. “Suit yourself. Now, I’ve absolutely no idea what we were talking about, so shall we stop by Gringotts, and get some shopping done?”

“Er—alright.” Harry said, feeling a little unsure. He really wanted to see his parents wills in particular, but he was a bit shocked from learning everything so quickly. He felt like, well, like someone had just him he was a wizard who stopped an evil dark lord as a baby.

“Quick question,” Gideon interrupted, frowning into a napkin he’d picked up from the table. “Regulus left a note. Mr. Potter, have you ever had inoculations? You might know them as vaccinations.”

Harry narrowed his eyes, trying to remember. “Er—no, I don’t think so. No, I haven’t.”

The older man sighed. “All right. That means we’ll have to go to St. Mungo’s first. Can’t have an unvaccinated child running around Diagon Alley.”

“What vaccines?”

Fabian shrugged. “Dunno. Usual, probably. Dragon Pox, Spattergroit, Scrofungulus, Vanishing Sickness, stuff like that. Remove any infant blocks placed on your magic, too.”

“Infant blocks?”

“When kids have really powerful accidental magic, there’s often a danger that they’ll hurt themselves or others, so healers are allowed to place boundaries on their magic levels. It doesn’t stop much, just a bit, so it’s safer. But they should always be removed before going to Hogwarts, or you can have big problems learning spell-work.”

“St. Muggos is the hospital?”

“St. Mungo’s, yeah. Other side of London. Shall we head over?”

“Er—all right. But can we tell Ms. Anthony where I am? She’ll be worried if I’m gone.”

Gideon reassured him. “We’ll send her a quick owl, and show up later explaining magic. It won’t be too hard to get the paperwork; not once people hear she’s been caring for the boy-who-lived. Right now, St. Mungo’s first, then Gringotts. Want me to hold your owl?”

~§~

Regulus Black arrived just as the prisoners of Azkaban were finishing lunch. If you can call it lunch; Regulus wasn’t even sure it counted as food. He nodded to the guards who brought out his brother, and waited until they had back out of hearing range.

“Sirius,” he said urgently. “I need you to tell me; are you Harry Potter’s godfather?”


	4. Horcruxes, Goblins, It's all too Sirius

Sirius Black was not panicking. But he was not far from it.

It would be a massive understatement to say that he wasn’t pleased when Dumbledore made the announcement that You-Know-Who was hunting the Potters and Longbottoms. He understood the danger, however, and that was why he had suggested Peter for James and Lily’s secret keeper. Sirius would run around saying he that he himself was the secret keeper, as an added security feature.

Then he has gotten the call for help; You-Know-Who was attacking his friend. Sirius knew he would be too late; he just knew he had to get there. But there was the nagging question of Peter; how had You-Know-Who found the Potters?

Sirius knew that the Fidelius could never be given under torture, or otherwise tricked out of the secret keeper. Part of why the Fidelius, even though it was such a tricky charm to cast, was so popular was because the keeper could only give the secret directly; the thought being they’d only give it to someone they trusted.

Sirius didn’t want to imagine Peter as one of You-Know-Who’s followers—he was a marauder, for Merlin’s sake!—but come to think of it, the rat hadn’t worn anything but long-sleeves for almost a year.

If Peter Pettigrew had betrayed the Potters—Sirius’ best friends and godson—then marauder or not, Sirius would kill him.

~§~

The Prewetts had decided to Floo over to St. Mungo’s. Harry had asked about apparation, but they both agreed that Floo travel was much safer and more comfortable for someone not used to wizard travel.

They instructed Harry to take a scoop of Floo powder, step into the fire place, and loudly and clearly state his destination. He was very excited to try some magic for himself, but Gideon insisted on going at the same time as him, in case he ‘got lost’. Luckily, the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron was large enough that they could both stand side by side with no problem.

Harry wasn’t quite sure what to expect; maybe he’d appear in another fireplace in a sudden puff of smoke? But instead he felt himself and Gideon get sucked up into the fireplace very quickly. They then started spinning, not fast enough for Harry to get sick, but certainly enough that he couldn’t tell up from down. They passed through several areas which looked to be other fireplaces at a glance, but they zoomed by too fast for Harry to get a proper look.

The two of them landed only a few moments later. Gideon stepped out of the fireplace calm and neatly; Harry spun around several times and fell down right as Fabian came out.

“You alright there?” Fabian asked, waving Gideon ahead. “Next time, spin yourself the opposite direction when you land, it’ll help you keep your balance.”

“Thanks.” Harry panted, climbing to his feet and dusting off his soot-covered shoulders.

They had landed in what looked like some kind of reception area: there were several wicker chairs dotting the room, with a few small tables which had magazines on them. Gideon was talking to a plump blonde witch in lime green—robes? Harry wasn’t sure what wizards called their clothes.

There were several witches and wizards sitting in the chairs with strange ailments; Harry tried very hard not to stare, but it was so strange that it was more than a bit difficult. One wizard had grown what looked to be some very fuzzy antennae. Another had two pairs of arms. A witch in the corner was holding a sleeping child with bright blue skin. Someone wrapped in a cloak appeared to be sitting quite uncomfortably on what looked like some kind of barbed tail.

A large sign hung on the wall next to the witch in green robes. Harry read it.

FLOOR GUIDE

Ground Floor: Artifact Accidents

_Exploding cauldrons, backfiring-wands, broom crashes, etc._

First Floor: Creature-Induced Injuries

_Bites, stings, burns, imbedded spiders, etc._

Second Floor: Magical Bugs

_Contagious maladies, e.g. dragon pox, vanishing sickness, scrofulungus_

Third Floor: Potion and Plant Poisoning

_Rashes, regurgitation, uncontrollable giggling, etc._

Fourth Floor: Spell Damage

_Unliftable jinxes, hexes, and incorrectly applied charms_

Fifth Floor: Visitor’s Tearoom and Hospital Shop

Harry had never seen a sign like it. Imbedded spiders? Broom crashes? Unliftable jinxes? Some of those sounded painful. He vaguely wondered why there were no non-magical floors. Maybe the wizards could fix those easily. But how was it done? Could they even cure things like cancer and diabetes, or did they just send people off to Muggle hospitals?

Harry opened his mouth to ask, but Fabian started walking toward Gideon and the green-robed witch, motioning for Harry to follow.

“Healer Barnes will meet us on Floor 2.” Gideon said. “Mr. Potter, Healer Barnes is the Prewett family healer. I’m not sure who the Potter family healer is, so I hope you don’t mind seeing Barnes? She’s very stern, but I promise she knows what she’s doing.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up. Each family had their own healer? _He_ had his own healer? Was a healer like a doctor? “Ok.” He said. “When can she see me?”

“Now, if that’s all right.” Gideon said. “Come on, this way.”

The twins led him over to a large lift in the corner of the room. Fabian pushed the button for the second floor, and they waited as it slowly went up.

“Does each family have their own doctor?” Harry asked.

“We call them healers.” Fabian replied absentmindedly. “And it’s really only the oldest and wealthiest families that have their own. Barnes signed herself onto us because she felt that we got ourselves hurt far too many times. In our defense, though,” he added, grinning, “it’s mostly Fred and George who get hurt. They like to invent new potions and such, and every once in a while there’ll be an extra-large explosion and they need to come here.”

“And the Potters had their own healer?”

Gideon answered, “Yeah. They must have. Your dad was one of the richest wizards around, Mr. Potter. Even more so than the Blacks, and trust me, they’re loaded. I would be surprised if the Potters _didn’t_ have one. I’d have you see him, but you’re not allowed to ask about other family’s healers.”

The lift bumped to a stop. The doors opened, and they stepped out into a long, clean hallway. There were several signs on the walls pointing to different wards. As they walked down the hallway, Harry peered into one of them. Only one of the beds was occupied; an old woman was covered in huge, painful looking, purple pustules.

The Prewetts led Harry down to the end of the hallway. There were several small rooms clustered together, and Harry followed the men into one on the far right.

There was a short, stern-looking healer waiting for them. She was wearing the lime green robes which Harry guessed must have been the healers’ uniform. She had short blonde hair, a square chin, and her sleeves were rolled up.

“All right, Mr. Potter,” she said as soon as the door had closed. “I hear you’ve never been to a healer before?”

Harry shook his head, climbing onto the table.

“Muggle or wizard?” She said, sounding surprised.

He shook his head again.

“Hmph. Well, I’m going to do a quick exam on you, and then we’ll go from there. All right?”

She waved her wand at Harry in several complicated patterns which left swirls of bright light flitting about the room. Then she tapped her wand on both his knees, his elbows, and the top of his head. She had him put a thermometer in his mouth, and harrumphed again when she read it. Finally, she had him take his glasses off. A small light appeared on the tip of her wand, and she looked in both of his eyes.

“Well,” she said, turning back to the Prewetts. “He’s a bit scrawny, but not starving. He shows signs of being malnourished, but he’s obviously been eating well for the past few years. He’s shorter than he should be, and his eyesight his atrocious, but he’s got good reflexes and he’s relatively healthy. I’d recommend two weeks’ worth of nutrient potions to fix the malnutrition and height. A stop by the optometrist would be good—get that done soon, those glasses do _nothing_ for that boy.”

Gideon and Fabian looked relieved. Harry wasn’t sure what an optometrist was, but if the healer thought he needed new glasses—well, Aunt Petunia had bought his pair out of a sale bin at the store, so he’d be fine with some new ones.

The healer was frowning. “I—who’s his guardian?”

“It’s complicated.” Gideon replied carefully.

“How complicated?” She demanded.

“We don’t know. His parents’ will was never opened, and he’s been raised by a Muggle who refused to stand by and do nothing while his Muggle relatives neglected him. Lord Black is looking into it.”

“A Muggle, huh? All right. Would you two be willing to stand in for the moment?”

“Why?” Fabian asked suspiciously. “Is something wrong?”

“No. But there’s something I’d like to mention that’s not fit for a child’s ears without permission.”

“If it’s about the Dursleys,” Harry interrupted. “I can handle it.”

“Of course you can, dear.” She said absentmindedly, still staring at the Prewetts.

“Er—I suppose we can.” Gideon answered hesitantly. “Mr. Potter, you mind?”

“No.” Harry replied, curious to know what had the healer so worked up. It wasn’t like he was dying or anything.

~§~

James and Lily were dead. Harry was alive. James and Lily were dead. That was all Sirius could think. His best friend—gone. And Harry—well, Hagrid had him, so Sirius figured the little tyke should be safe at least for a day. Maybe. Well, death eaters wouldn’t be a problem, at least.

Sirius gritted his teeth as he ran up the street. Damn Peter to hell! No, Pettigrew. He wouldn’t call the --t _raitorbastardmurdurerliar_ —by his name. He didn’t deserve it.

Pete— _Pettigrew_ —had been the one to betray James and Lily. He had been a death eater—must have been! Sirius could have hexed himself for not seeing it earlier. All those times when the traitor had disappeared for hours on end, never wearing anything but long-sleeves, and generally being a terrified little squealer who always hung out with whoever could protect him…Sirius would kill him. If it was the last thing he’d do, Sirius would—kill—Peter—Pettigrew!

He obviously hadn’t been thinking clearly when he gave Hagrid his bike; true, he didn’t really need it right then, but it would have been far quicker to catch the sniveling rat bastard if he had it. He only hoped that Hagrid took good care of it.

Sirius apparated to the street where he knew Pettigrew had been staying the past few weeks; ever since James and Lily went under the Fidelius, they had decided the secret keeper would live in an out of the way Muggle street. There were hundreds of those, and so long as Pettigrew was careful, he wouldn’t have been found. But obviously that hadn’t been an issue; he had been found long before that.

Sirius marched up the steps of Pettigrew’s small house, raised his wand, and basted apart the door.

He wasn’t expecting the cowardly son-of-a-bitch to dart out past Sirius as a rat, but Sirius quickly turned and blasted a dark red hex at him, followed by a light blue curse which would have shriveled Pettigrew’s skin until he looked like a mummy and died from dehydration—Sirius was a marauder, and he wasn’t playing around.

Pettigrew turned back to a human, holding his wand unsteadily.

“Sirius, please!” He whimpered, buckteeth chattering nervously. “I had to! I didn’t want to, but the dark lord, he—he made me! Sirius, you don’t understand—his power was so great!”

Sirius snarled and threw another curse. “Go to hell, Peter! You killed them! You betrayed James and Lily—you might as well have killed them yourself!”

Peter shook his head as he clumsily dodged Sirius’ hexes and curses. “Sirius, I didn’t want to! But the dark lord would have found them anyway—I only helped. I didn’t mean too, but he made me!”

“Liar! You knew what you were doing!”

Pettigrew’s face twisted into an odd look—a sort of grimace and nasty grin forced into one hideous expression. “Oh yes, Sirius, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“How could you?!” Sirius yelled, the heat of battle overwhelming him. He didn’t even notice the small crowd of Muggles they had gathered, didn’t notice the mad cackle escaping from his lips.

“I am a loyal servant of the dark lord, Sirius, and one day—he will return! My master is immortal—this setback won’t stop his noble plans! I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Sirius—you ran from the glory. I am sorry, Sirius, but I have to do this.”

Sirius pointed his wand at the traitor, a feral grin marring his usually handsome features. “So do I, Peter.”

Sirius was blasted back in shock and pain as Pettigrew threw some kind of advanced blasting curse, hitting the Muggle road and causing the entire thing to explode. There were screams, and Sirius couldn’t see anything.

He sat there for several minutes, staring at the finger the traitor had left behind. Sirius felt grief—overwhelming grief—but mostly shock. He didn’t move…he didn’t think he _could_ move. James and Lily were dead. Peter had escaped. Harry was gone. Regulus was dead. He had nothing.

He limply allowed the Aurors to arrest him. He stood without fighting, and didn’t struggle when they took his wand. A single tear ran down his face. Sirius looked up at the pale grey sky.

“I killed Lily and James Potter!” He screamed in outraged grief as he was led away.

~§~

Healer Barnes led the brothers to the other side of the room, and put up a privacy charm. Harry looked disappointed when he realized he couldn’t hear them.

“What is it?” Gideon asked, expecting the worst.

The healer sighed. “His scar. I’d need to do more tests to find out, but he got that scar ten years ago, and it still hasn’t faded. If it was truly put there by dark magic, I’d like to check it out, make sure there’s no residue left over.”

The brothers went white.

“You’re saying there’s a chance he’s got part of the killing curse in his head?” Fabian whispered.

“I don’t know.” Healer Barnes answered truthfully. “But there’s something that’s preventing it from healing right. It looks like the poor boy got it yesterday. If you two accept temporary claim over the boy, I could check it out—it would be like caring for a friend’s child. Not actual guardianship, but something. I just need permission.”

“Do whatever you need to.” Fabian answered promptly.

“Alright.” She cancelled the charm. “Mr. Potter?”

Harry looked up. “Yeah?”

“I’m going to call some colleagues of mine to check out that scar of yours. I don’t like how it looks like you got it yesterday.”

“Ok.” Harry was a little surprised that someone had actually noticed that; he had certainly never thought about it.

Healer Barnes ended up calling Healer Danners from the First floor, and Healer Vane from the fourth floor. Healer Danner was a large, burly black man with a smile that appeared out of place on his intimidating frame. Healer Vane was a small little witch with bony arms and messy brown hair wrapped up in a bun.

“Mr. Potter!” Healer Vane squeaked when she entered the room. “I know you’re here for your checkup, but before we start, I’d just like to say thank you. I have three nieces who are safe because that awful wizard isn’t about anymore.”

Harry blinked. “Oh. Um—you’re welcome.” He hadn’t expected anyone to actually thank him for bringing down Voldemort—he had just been a baby!

“The thing is,” Healer Barnes said. “Is Mr. Potter’s scar. It looks fresh, and for an old scar on a growing boy, that’s not normal. We’re going to check and see if there’s any magical residue left over, Mr. Potter. Don’t worry—this won’t hurt a bit.”

Healer Danners had brought some kind of smelly green salve with him. He used gloved hands to smear a glob on Harry’s forehead, on top of the scar. Harry hissed as the salve burned coldly. The healers looked at him, startled.

“Did that hurt?” Healer Danners asked, concerned.

“Yeah, it stung. It’s really cold.” Harry said, resisting the urge to grab his head.

Healer Vane looked quite frightened as she came over and waved her wand over him, muttering what sounded like nonsense words.

She stopped and turned pale. “Oh dear.”

She slowly placed her wand in her pocket. Then she told Harry to stay put, and put a privacy ward up around the other adults.

“What did you find?” Healer Barnes asked. “Is the killing curse still in there?”

“No.” Healer Vane replied curtly.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

“So what is it then?” Fabian asked.

“That’s the thing. It’s some sort of soul leach.”

Everyone paled. The Prewetts glanced at each other.

“Can you remove it?” Gideon asked hesitantly.

Healer Vane took a deep breath. “With the three of us, yes, we should be able to. It appears to be acting like a dormant possession. Healer Danners, Healer Barnes, do you feel confidant?”

“Yes.” They answered.

“Anything to get that horrible thing out of the child.” Healer Danners shuddered.

“We can’t tell him,” Healer Vane argued, “there’s just no way I’m telling a child he has a piece of You-Know-Who in his head.”

The three healers nodded to each other, and turned back to Harry.

“Mr. Potter, there is some sort of magical residue left in the scar. It’s very dangerous, so we’re going to have to remove it.” Healer Barnes said calmly.

~§~

Sirius was in shock.

He had been placed in Azkaban without trial, and wasn’t expecting to be let out anytime soon. His animagus form helped a bit with the Dementors, but they still sucked ever bit of happiness and joy out of him—not that there was much left to begin with.

Not five minutes ago he had been sitting in his cold stone cell, trying to keep warm and away from the Dementors, when two guards had dragged him out to the visiting section. Sirius wasn’t aware that Azkaban even had a visiting section. Now, he was staring into the pale face of his not-so-dead little brother.

“Regulus?” He croaked.

The same little brother who had run away to You-Know-Who.

“You!” He snarled, lunging at his brother. Sirius wasn’t quite sure what he was planning to do, but the Auror guards grabbed him and started hauling him away long before he could touch his brother. “What are you doing here, you bastard, eh? Come to gloat how you won and I’m in here, when you’re the bloody son of a bitch who should have a date with a Dementor?”

Even as angry as he was, Sirius still noticed the hurt look which had passed over his brother’s eyes.

~§~

“Dangerous?” Harry asked. “How dangerous?”

“We’re not entirely certain.” Healer Vane said. “But better safe than sorry, right?” She tried for a weak grin.

“What is it?” Harry said, not believing her for a second.

Gideon went over to him and sat down next to him on the table.

“Mr. Potter, you were hit by the killing curse. You’re the only person to have survived it—ever. We don’t know what will happen, but we want it out. Do you trust the healers?”

Harry looked at Gideon with wide eyes. The killing curse? This sounded serious. Did he really trust the healers? He looked over at the three healers, who were standing a few feet away waiting for his answer. He thought about it—he’d never trusted anyone besides Ms. Anthony before. Could he try? Maybe once.

“Ok.”

As soon as he answered, the Prewetts were ushered out of the room. The healers gathered around Harry, who was suddenly reminded of a movie scene. They raised their wands at Harry. Healer Barnes told him to close his eyes and not move.

Harry slowly did as he was told. He heard the healers start chanting something. At first, he didn’t notice anything—but then his scar started to burn. It was as if something in his scar was trying to stay in his head, but something was determined to pull it out. He wanted to grab his head and yell, but something had made his body freeze. The pain grew worse with a sudden burst of heat, and then everything went black.

~§~

Six months later Sirius had managed to calm himself down. He was shocked to hear that his brother had visited him— _again_. But he wanted answers, and Sirius would get them.

Sirius sat at the wooden table, hands bound behind him. He was staring at Regulus, trying to decide if this was some sort of joke, or if he’d already gone mad. Regulus leaned forward slightly, straitening his shoulders.

“Sirius.” He said coolly. “I understand this must be a shock. Nevertheless, I am here and alive.” He lowered his voice, ignoring his brother’s lack of response. “I know you probably won’t believe me, but just ask a guard for a newspaper. I betrayed the dark lord, and ran away after stealing an object very dear to him. I was found by the Prewett brothers, and have allied with them. They have been helping me stay safe, and we have been attempting to get you a trial. We don’t have long to talk here, brother, but I need to know if there is anything— _anything_ —that can help us force a trial for you.”

Sirius swallowed uncertainly. “You—you ran from him? But—why?”

“I joined to please our parents, you know that. At first, I agreed with the dark lord’s ideals; I didn’t like Muggles, and I thought wizards of old bloodlines should have superior power. I still do. But I don’t condone the endless torturing and meaningless killing of both Muggles and wizards. The dark lord is a monster. He had what I felt were noble goals, but his ways of achieving them were horrendous and barbaric. I am ashamed that I fell into his trap. Frankly, I am quite startled that so many have chosen to stay with him. Activities like that are not fit for any civilized people.”

Sirius blinked. “You still hate Muggles. Should’ve known. Why are you trying to get me a trial? You hate me. With me out of the way, you can have the lordship and the headship for yourself. Why do you want me free?”

“Because you are family. I would also appreciate having someone around who I know I can trust. As for the family titles, you should be grateful, Sirius, you know you never wanted them.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were a disowned heir incarcerated for a grievous crime. While you were, I took both the lordship and headship. You should be grateful because not only do you hate politics, but I also welcomed you and Andromeda back into the family, and disowned Bellatrix after dissolving her marriage and obtaining the Lestrange vaults.”

Sirius stared at him. “You—you’re right. Thank you. I do hate politics.”

“I know.”

“And I am so proud to have you as a brother. My little Reggie is finally turning into a prankster!”

“Call me that again and I’ll leave you here to rot.”

~§~

Harry blinked his eyes open. He was in a white room, lying on a crisp, sheeted bed. There was a window to his right, with the curtains drawn open and bright sunlight shining through. He sat up, and promptly regretted it.

“Ow!” His scar ached as he recovered from the sudden burst of vertigo. Surprisingly, his head felt much lighter, like he’d had a headache for years and it suddenly lifted.

“Glad to see you’re awake, Mr. Potter.” Healer Barnes was sitting in a chair next to him, looking tired. “I’m sorry, that expulsion was much harder than we had originally anticipated.”

“Is everyone ok?” Harry asked, not seeing the two other healers.

“Yes. Healer Danner’s shift ended a few hours ago, but Healer Vane is still here, if you would like to see her. The Lords Prewett are here as well—I wouldn’t let them in until I was sure you were awake. I did a final exam, and every trace of the residue is gone. I also gave you your inoculations while you were resting, so as soon as you feel up for it you may go.”

Harry was surprised. He hadn’t thought he’d been out for that long. “That’s it?”

“You will return in two weeks for a final exam before you go to school. The Prewetts already have your potions, which you will take once in the morning and once before bed. Any questions?”

“No thanks. If I feel ok now, can I go?”

She smiled. “Yes, Mr. Potter. Healer Vane and the Lords Prewett are waiting at the door.”

“Where am I?”

“You are in one of the other exam rooms. I thought you would be more comfortable here rather than on the table.”

“Probably. Thanks, Healer Barnes.”

Harry got to his feet unsteadily. He made it to the door and opened it, where the adults were waiting.

“Mr. Potter!” The Prewetts said happily in unison.

“Glad to see you’re all fixed up.” Fabian said with a grin.

“Mr. Potter,” Healer Vane spoke up. “Are you sure you feel alright?”

Harry grinned. “Yeah, Healer Vane. In fact, I feel great! It’s like a huge weight has been lifted out of my head. Thanks.”

She smiled down at him. “Glad to hear it. May I ask you for a favor?” She turned slightly pink.

“What?”

“Well, you see, I know you’re not used to your fame, but my nieces would be thrilled to know I met Harry Potter. Would you mind if I gave them an autograph?”

Harry looked at her blankly for a moment. An autograph? Oh, right. He was famous.

“Um…”

“Farilda is two years older than you, Matilda is one year younger than you, and Romilda is two years younger than her. I know they’d be ever so pleased, but if you don’t want to, I understand.”

Harry looked at the twins for advice. Gideon shrugged as if to say, ‘your decision’. Fabian nodded.

“Um…alright.” Harry said slowly. “But…I don’t know how to write with a quill.”

Healer Vane blinked. “Th-that’s alright.” She stammered. “We have Muggles come here sometimes, so we have—what do you call them?—bens, too.”

“Pens.” Fabian corrected her.

“Yes, pens, that’s right.” A pen and piece of parchment appeared out of thin air.

Harry’s mouth dropped open. He numbly took the writing instruments from her, and signed his name.

“Thank you!” Healer Vane squealed. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell them I met you on the street—patient/healer confidentiality, after all.” She winked, then was gone.

Gideon used a finger to close Harry’s gaping mouth. “Stop drooling, kid. Gringotts is next.”

~§~

Sirius had not been expecting that question. “Harry? Yeah, I—” His eyes widened in horror. “Oh no! I completely forgot about him! What—who raised him? Is he alright? Does he know the truth about me? Did you meet him?”

“Slow down.” Regulus demanded. “Now, don’t interrupt. Lily’s sister and her husband raised him, but completely neglected him. He was raised by a Muggle librarian, and we met when Hagrid went to take him for his school supplies. He’s scrawny and wary, but seems to be fine. I haven’t told him anything about you yet, but I plan to find his godmother and attempt to get guardianship.”

Sirius frowned. “Alice Longbottom. But I read in _The Prophet_ about what happened.”

“I’ll speak to the regent, then.” Regulus sighed. “Augusta is terrifying. I only hope she’ll understand. However,” he sat up straight and stared at his brother. “I have a plan. You need to escape so we can force a trial.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Come again?”

“When I leave, you’re going to ask if I have parchment and a quill. You’re really bored and want something to do; say you like to draw. I’ll hand you a blood bag—when the guards open it, they’ll see a quill, but when you slice your finger on the zipper, you’ll find several nutrient and strengthening potions inside, along with a portkey. Tonight, turn into your animagus form and slide out from the bars. Take a potion and swim to shore. You’ll be far enough away from here that the portkey will work. Understand?”

Sirius nodded, tears of relief sliding down his face. “Y—yes. Thanks, Regulus. You have no idea how much this means to me. You’ll use Harry to force a trial through the Wizengamot?”

Regulus nodded. “Yes. Amelia Bones and the Prewetts are firmly on our side, and we should be able to sway many with Harry’s influence. We’ll be able to keep it up long enough to insinuate that a Most Ancient and Noble pureblood has been locked away without trial for years. Even Dumbledore and Fudge combined won’t stand up to that.”

Sirius grinned, using a grimy finger to wipe away the tears. “Thanks, Regulus.”

Regulus didn’t move as the guards came and started to take Sirius away. He knew he wouldn’t be blamed for Sirius’ disappearance; he always visited at this time, and besides, he was much too influential in the Wizengamot for his name to be brought up like that. If only he could convince the Potter boy to help, getting Sirius a trial would be a piece of cake.

As the guards grabbed him, Sirius said, “Wait!”

The Aurors looked startled. “What?” One asked.

“Regulus,” Sirius asked. “I don’t suppose you have some parchment and a spare quill? It’s so boring here, and I’d like something to do—you know how I like to draw.”

Regulus stood up smoothly, reaching inside his cloak. “I don’t see why not.”

The guards looked at each other in confusion. Obviously junior Aurors, Regulus thought. Bones would be disappointed.

“Er—let me see.” The one demanded, reaching a hand out towards Regulus.

Regulus raised an eyebrow and handed him the small bag. The guard opened it and peered inside before handing it to Sirius, looking disappointed at not having found anything. Sirius took it and gave Regulus a subtle wink.

“Thanks, little brother. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Regulus wanted to hex his brother. If Sirius didn’t shut up, they’d both be in trouble.

~§~

Once more, Harry strolled into Gringotts. It was just as impressive this time, although the goblins out front had changed. There were less people this time, as well. The morning rush must have been over, Harry realized. It was late afternoon now.

He followed the Prewetts up to the counter.

“Good day, sir.” Gideon said to the teller. “May we speak with the Potter account manager, please?”

The goblin looked down at him. “One moment, please. Wrenchfang!”

A goblin came over. “This way, sirs.” He said, heading towards one of the doors at the far back of the hall.

This time the door didn’t lead to a set of dark tunnels—there was a small office inside. There was a long desk along the back, covered with stacks of parchment, and three chairs facing it. Wrenchfang ushered them in, and then left without a word. Gideon motioned for Harry to take the seat in the middle.

The goblin behind the desk looked up, and adjusted his golden glasses. “Yes?”

Fabian replied, “We’re here to look at the Potter wills.”

“And the states of the Potter vaults.” Gideon added.

“I am Zipnip, the Potter accountant. Who are you?”

“Gideon and Fabian Prewett, and Harry Potter.”

The goblin sat forward and stared at Harry. “Is it so? Young man, it has been over a decade since a Potter last sat in this office. Very well, I will see what I can—” He froze. “The state of the vaults? Ahh…that is correct. After October, 1981, no one came to tell me to unfreeze the vaults—and therefore, no statements. I apologize, Mr. Potter. That will be fixed at once.”

“Could you send them to Regulus Black?” Gideon asked. “He’s going to be acting as temporary guardian, and I believe Mr. Potter has a mail redirection ward on him.”

Harry frowned. Mail redirection? Why was Mr. Black going to be his guardian? What were bank statements?

Both Fabian and the goblin reacted violently to Gideon’s claim.

“What? You’re kidding. Mail redirection wards are next to impossible.” Fabian said.

“Lord Black? I believe I can do that. But mail redirection is a serious offence, Lord Prewett. May I ask why you think that?” Zipnip asked.

Gideon turned to Harry. “You said, despite your celebrity status, that until yesterday you had no notion that the wizarding world existed?”

“Yeah.” Harry said.

“I know that you should have received hundreds of fan mail, at least, probably every year.” Gideon said, causing Harry’s jaw to drop. “I know our niece, Ginny, always sends you a card on your birthday. I imagine she is not the only one.”

Harry shook his head. “No. I never got anything until my Hogwarts letters.”

Zipnip sighed. “You will have to go to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement for that. However, I can mail the statements to Lord Black. That won’t be a problem, so long as Heir Potter agrees.” He looked at Harry.

“Ok?”

“Excellent. Now that that’s done with, Mr. Potter, you wanted to open your parents wills?”

Harry nodded, not daring to speak. Was he really going to see his parents wills? His mum and dad’s? The goblin reached down and pulled open a drawer. He shuffled a few things around, and handed Harry a small package.

Harry slowly opened it with shaking hands. There were only a few sheets of paper. He opened it carefully, not wanting to risk damaging such a precious object.

“Mr. Potter?” Fabian asked. “Do you want us to leave?”

Harry shook his head. His hands had frozen. “I—I don’t think I can do it.”

Gideon glanced at Zipnip, who nodded. He reached over and plucked the papers out of Harry’s clammy hands.

“The Final Will and Testament of James and Lily Potter.” He read.

I, James Charlus Potter, being of somewhat sound mind and perfect body, hereby write my last will and testament on October 23rd, 1981.

_James! I, Lily Maria Potter nee Evans, being of sound mind and body, do hereby write my last will and testament on October 23 rd, 1981._

We hereby name the goblin Gringotts Potter accountant Zipnip to be our executor.

_To Remus John Lupin, we leave 143,000 Galleons, and our residence in Wales known as ‘Sandcastle’._

To Peter Joseph Pettigrew, if we die while under Fidelius, you get a lifetime in Azkaban. Otherwise, we leave you 7, 100 Galleons.

_To Sirius Orion Black, we leave our residence of Godric’s Hollow._

To Frank Neville Longbottom, we leave all of Lily’s herbology notes, as well as her green house at Potter Manor.

_To Alice Julia Longbottom, we leave 300 Galleons, and hope that you continue your dreams of becoming a healer._

_To Severus Snape, we leave all of Lily’s potion notes, and 2,500 Galleons._

To Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, we leave 10,000 Galleons for the upkeep of school brooms and the Quidditch Pitch.

_To the Auror Force at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, we leave 5,000 Galleons to be used for the protection and training of the Auror force._

We will, devise, bequeath and give all the rest and remainder of our property and estates of every kind and character, including, but not limited to, real and personal property in which we may have an interest at the date of our death and which is not otherwise effectively disposed of, to our son, Harry James Potter.

We wish our son, Harry James Potter, to be raised by these people in following order:

His godfather, Sirius Orion Black

His godmother and her spouse, Alice Julia Longbottom and Frank Neville Longbottom

Peter Joseph Pettigrew, if he’s not in Azkaban

Minerva Isobel McGonagall

Filius Filbert Flitwick

**Never, under any circumstances, is Harry James Potter to go to Lily’s sister, Petunia June Dursley nee Evans, or her spouse, Vernon Howard Dursley, or meet them in any way, shape, or form.**

_We hereby revoke any and all prior wills and codicils we have made._

Signed: James Charlus Potter

_Signed: Lily Maria Potter nee Evans_

Witness: Sirius Orion Black

Witness: Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Witness: Peter Joseph Pettigrew

October 23rd, 1981

~§~

Harry stared uncomprehendingly at Gideon, who folded up the will and gingerly put it back into the folder. “They left me everything?” He whispered.

Fabian put his chin in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. “Pettigrew was secret keeper. That means Sirius is innocent.”

Harry looked up. “Sirius Black? Is he some relation to Mr. Black?”

Fabian nodded. “Brother. I’m pretty sure that’s where Regulus went.”

“I was never supposed to go with the Dursleys!” Harry realized, outraged. “I don’t know any of those other people, though.”

“Remus Lupin was a friend of your dad’s. Severus Snape,” Fabian grimaced. “Used to be a friend of your mom’s. They had a fight in school, and never made up, I think. The Longbottoms were good friends of theirs, but they were attacked by death eaters just a few days after your parents. They’re in a permanent ward in St. Mungo’s. Their son is about your age, his grandmother raised him. McGonagall and Flitwick are professors at Hogwarts—transfiguration and charms.”

“You know something?” Gideon said slowly, obviously speaking to his brother. “Dumbledore witnessed this.” They shared a look.

“Hey!” Harry said angrily. “Hagrid said he’s the one who put me at the Dursleys! That’s illegal!”

“He’s also the one who sealed the wills.” Zipnip added. “Unfortunately, he’s Chief Warlock, so there’s not much we can do.”

“We’re trying.” Fabian said. “This is just more wood for the fire.”

“What’s Chief Warlock?” Harry demanded.

“Head of the Wizengamot.” Gideon answered. “They’re voted in, but pretty hard to get out.”

“What can we do? I’m not going back to the Dursleys—ever. But I really want to talk to Ms. Anthony.”

Zipnip’s ears perked forward. “Who?”

“She took care of me when the Dursleys wouldn’t.” Harry answered. “Why can’t Mr. Black’s brother do anything? If he’s my godfather—”

Gideon sighed. “Mr. Potter, you’re godfather was framed for the betrayal of your parents to Voldemort—” Zipnip flinched at the name, “and has been in Azkaban, the wizard prison, ever since. Regulus and Amelia Bones, the head of magical law enforcement, have been trying for years to get him a trial, but Dumbledore won’t allow it.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“Regulus is probably going to try and use your influence to pull a trial through.” Fabian said. “But anyway, because he’s head of House Black, he can be your guardian. He might have to share with Augusta Longbottom, but she’s stern, not mean, and it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Harry’s head drooped. “I didn’t have to stay at the Dursleys…” he raised his head. “Ms. Anthony always tried to get the Dursleys in jail for how they treated me. But everyone either forgot or disappeared. And now I never even had to go there…”

The adults’ eyes widened. Zipnip sat forward. “Mr. Potter? Did you say they all forgot?”

Harry nodded glumly.

The Prewetts and the goblin shared a look.

“Dumbledore?” Fabian muttered.

“Possibly. Probably.” Zipnip replied. “I want to stay in touch with Mr. Potter’s happenings, would that be troublesome?”

“No.” Gideon replied. “But—” he glanced at his watch. “It’s late, and we should be going. Accountant Zipnip, thank you for your time. Mr. Potter, we should be going. You should be in bed soon.”

The Prewetts managed to lug a still-shocked Harry to the Floo. Gideon whispered in his ear, “The Blacks live at #12 Grimmauld Place.” And off they went.

~§~

Fred, George, Aries, and Rigel had been working hard all afternoon. With Kreacher’s help, the boys had cleaned out an old guest room on the third floor, just across the hall from the twins’ rooms. It was still dark, but it was clean and had a bed.

When they were done, they collapsed into the kitchen and asked Kreacher to make them sandwiches, which were quickly devoured.

“What do you think of Potter?” Aries asked.

Rigel frowned. “He’s had a hard life, one that he shouldn’t’ve had. But he did, and he seems tougher for it. He seems plenty smart, but he doesn’t appear to trust a lot of people.”

George nodded. “Yeah, but he obviously thinks a lot of that Muggle, Ms. Anthony.”

Fred laughed. “Did you see Uncle Regulus’ face when he said he’d been raised by Muggles? I thought he was going to blow up the table.”

Aries cracked a grin. “Yeah, he wasn’t too pleased. The Prewetts will ask Bones to tell her about us, though, so she can testify against those relatives of his.”

“When do you think they’re going to get back?” George asked, glancing at the clock.

“Dunno.” Rigel shrugged. “It’s almost eight-thirty—they’ll be here soon.”

As if on cue, the Floo went off in the entry room. Regulus called out, “Boys?”

“Here!” They shouted.

He entered the kitchen. “Tonight or tomorrow we’re going to have a special visitor. A friend is sending his dog to stay with us. I’m not sure how long he’ll stay, but I want you to treat him with the utmost respect. And don’t let him get you in trouble.”

The teens stared at him.

“A dog?” Fred asked. “Why?”

Regulus gave a wry smile. “You’ll be calling him Padfoot.”

The boys gasped.

“It’ll be Sirius in his animagus form.” He continued, ignoring the incredulous looks on the boys’ faces. “Don’t talk about it, don’t tell anyone. You know nothing about the jail breakout that’s about to occur.”

Rigel raised an eyebrow. “I find it difficult to believe Uncle Sirius would be able to break out of Azkaban.”

“He’s not. This conversation never happened. Ah, Mr. Potter! I am glad to see—Gideon? Why is he broken?”

Fabian looked up and answered as Gideon laid Harry into a seat. “We just read the wills. Turns out, it was specifically stated that he stay far away from the Dursleys. He’s in a bit of shock, and he’s had a long day. Mind if we take him up to bed?”

Regulus waved his hand. “Go on. We can talk later.”

“Fifth room on the right, third floor.” Aries said helpfully. “How was St. Mungo’s?”

The Prewetts exchanged glances.

“Ok.” Gideon said. “But we need to get him to bed—and the four of you as well.”

The boys burst into complaints, but Regulus slammed his hand on the table.

“Bed! Now. We’ll talk in the morning.”

The teens followed the Prewetts up the stairs, grumbling all the while.

~§~

“He had a horcrux in his head?” Regulus said incredulously. “The scar? A horcrux?”

Fabian nodded. “Yep. Healer Vane called it a soul leach, but that’s the youngest daughter from a light lesser family. Danners and Barnes are both muggle-born—there’s no way any of them would know what a horcrux is.”

Regulus shook his head. “That’s four horcruxes. Four. How many did he make?” He put his head in his hands and moaned.

“He couldn’t have made more than seven.” Gideon said thoughtfully. “That’s the maximum number of times a soul can be split—but it’s also a prime magical number, so I’ll guess he wanted that, for the natural protection.”

“Yeah, but where are the remaining three?”

“He might not have made them all yet.” Gideon reminded him. “He vanished in his prime, and he couldn’t make one in a wraith-form.”

Fabian shook his head. “Anyway, what’s this about breaking out Sirius? I admire the plan, but are we telling Amelia?”

“No.” Regulus said. “She’ll probably figure it out, but with the information in the wills, and Potter’s influence, we’ll get him a trial. I may have to bribe some people to make sure it’s not thrown, though. You know someone will try and do it.”

“What about that Muggle Potter mentioned? We can go over tomorrow, but I want Amelia there. It’s kind of her job, after all—we don’t need to get in trouble for breaking the Statute of Secrecy.” Fabian said.

“Yeah, call her over.” Regulus said. “She can bring Susan too. Potter needs someone his own age. He needs to finish getting his school supplies though—I can send out Kreacher for that. I want him more focused on getting things off the list; genealogy books, clothes, stuff like that.”

Fabian snorted. “I highly doubt Amelia is going to be able to take him clothes shopping. Who will you call?”

“I can ask Narcissa, except that means he’ll have to put up with Draco, and he’s a brat. Perhaps Isobel Greengrass? She also has a daughter starting Hogwarts this year, and Daphne is polite. Harry could benefit from meeting with them.”

“And guardianship?” Gideon asked. “You’ll settle that with Amelia, obviously. I mean, it’s already legal, you just have to let her know you’re taking him.”

Regulus nodded. “Yes, but I need to schedule a meeting with Augusta Longbottom. I think she might want split guardianship.”

“Yeah, but Neville is Potter’s age, too. You know, it might be best to throw a welcoming party, and have at it.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow as he pondered this. “A semi-formal event, with children his own age. That could work.”

Fabian yawned, and stood up. “Well, it really is getting late, and we’ll have to be up early to catch Amelia. You coming, Gid?”

“Sure. Need any help with Sir—Padfoot?” Gideon asked.

“No. I’ll go to bed now. He should be here in the morning—Merlin knows he knows how to get in.”

“The Fidelius won’t bother him?”

“I’ve told him the secret before, and we haven’t changed it since.”

“Right then.” Fabian said, clapping his hands together. “Tomorrow, we meet some Muggles. How fun.”


	5. Meeting the Muggles

When Harry first woke up, his first thought was that it was dark. He blinked his eyes once, and sat up groggily, reaching out blindly for his glasses.

The room he was in was about twice the size of the spare one he slept in at the Dursleys. Everything was dark green, and there was a faint smell of dust, as though it had been unused for years and someone suddenly decided to give it a makeover. The bed was a huge four poster, and Harry felt like he was wallowing in the blankets. There was one window along the opposite wall, but the curtains were so dark it was hard to see any light.

Harry stood up slowly and peeked out. Oh, it was just very early. He could see the first rays of sunlight over the tops of neighboring houses. He stepped away from the window and yanked the curtain open. The little bit of light from the sunrise wasn’t much, but it meant that he wouldn’t trip over something.

Harry looked around. Someone had placed a spare set of clothes on the end of his bed—a shirt and jeans, both a little too large for him. He reckoned they must have belonged to Aries or Rigel. He slipped them on, and left his old clothes on the bed in their place, slipping the Gringotts key into his new ones.

The door opened with a tiny squeak. Harry tiptoed out, closed it behind him, and crept down the hallway. He didn’t remember much from last night after the shock from his parents’ wills had practically knocked him out, but he remembered the Prewetts taking him somewhere, and saying he could stay the night.

Sure enough, when he finally made it to the bottom stair, he saw one of the Prewetts speaking into the fireplace. There was quiet movement in one of the nearby rooms, but Harry was much more interested in why Gideon had his face in a ball of green flame. Was this a different kind of Floo?

“We’re going over in about an hour.” Gideon was saying. There was a short pause, as if someone else was speaking. “Me, Fab, and Regulus.—Yes, he’s coming too. Weren’t you listening, love?—I said we want someone from Law Enforcement there to make sure we don’t lose our tempers and do anything too rash.—Alright. That’s fine. Can you bring Susan? The kid should probably hang around someone his own age. The twins will drive him batty eventually.—Sure, thanks.”

Gideon crawled out of the fireplace, and the fire shut itself off. He brushed soot off of his knees. “Morning, Mr. Potter.”

“You can call me Harry.” Harry offered. “What were you doing?”

“Floo-calling Amelia Bones. She’s head of the DMLE—that’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement. We’re going to be talking to your relatives and Ms. Anthony today, and she’s coming with. She’ll be over in about five minutes with her niece.”

“Susan?”

“That’s her. She’s an orphan, like you—her parents were killed in the war. Anyway, she’s starting Hogwarts too, and we figured you might want to meet a kid besides the twins. They are a bit older than you.”

Harry smiled. “Thanks. What are you going to do the Dursleys?”

“I’m not sure. Depends. Hungry? Kitchen’s that way.”

~§~

Fabian and Mr. Black were sitting at the kitchen table when they walked in. It was a small room, especially compared to the rest of the house, but there was plenty of space with just the four of them. Fabian had his feet propped up on the table, and was lazily reading the paper. Mr. Black was hunched over, sipping a cup of tea.

“Toast?” Gideon asked.

Harry shrugged. “Ok.”

“Kreacher!” Mr. Black called out, after a sharp prod from Gideon. There was a loud pop, and something appeared crouching next to Mr. Black. It was about three feet tall, with spindly limbs and a large head with immense, bat-like ears. It was wearing a dark green pillow case.

Harry jumped in surprise.

“Harry, this is Kreacher.” Gideon explained. “He’s Regulus’ house elf. He’s a bit like a…well, I guess you could call him a servant. Kreacher, this is Harry Potter. Be nice.”

Kreacher was still crouching near Mr. Black’s knees. “Kreacher not do what ugly redhead tell him, ugly redhead not Kreacher’s master, Kreacher doesn’t have to—”

“Kreacher.” Mr. Black intoned drowsily.

Kreacher shut up.

“He’s a bit crabby, but don’t mind him.” Gideon continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Most are quite nice.”

“Kreacher, please get Mr. Potter some toast.” Mr. Black asked the elf. Kreacher huffed, then scurried over to the cabinets.

“You can call me Harry.” Harry offered again. “I’m ok with it.”

Fabian peered over his paper and nodded at him with narrow, drowsy eyes. Mr. Black didn’t move.

“Amelia said she’ll bring Susan over in about…” Gideon looked at his watch. “Any minute now. You two ready?”

Fabian folded the paper and yawned into the crook of his arm. Mr. Black grunted.

“Will I come with?” Harry asked excitedly.

“Sorry, kid.” Fabian answered. “Afraid your relatives will be upset enough as it is. You mind staying here with the boys and Susan?”

 Harry shrugged, a little dissapointed. “Dunno. Haven’t met her yet.”

“You can now.” A voice said behind him. Harry turned; a woman whom he guessed was Amelia Bones was standing there, an arm wrapped around a short, yawning girl with red pigtails. “I’m Madame Bones, Mr. Potter. Honor to meet you.”

Harry offered his hand, which she shook. Susan looked up at him and blinked blearily.

“Susan Bones.” She said quietly. “Honor to meet you, Mr. Potter.”

“You can call me Harry.” He said. “Will you be staying here all day?”

Susan nodded. “Most of it. I come over often. Are the boys still sleeping?”

Harry nodded.

She grinned widely. “Wanna wake them up?”

~§~

Ms. Anthony looked at the clock hanging on her kitchen wall. Almost seven am. She peered through the window to look at the Dursleys house. The louts hadn’t woken up yet. She scowled.

The Dursleys had returned late last night, looking very tired and cranky. Ms. Anthony had wanted to go over immediately and grill them about Harry, as she hadn’t seen him accompany them into the house.

She’d gone over to her mother’s for a day, and returned home to a note on her door saying there’d been a family emergency, and the Dursleys were taking Harry for a few days. Oh, they’d better have fed him, for their sakes.

The worst part was, yesterday had been Harry’s eleventh birthday. She had been planning to take him to the zoo again, as he always loved it there, and then they’d go and have dinner out. But he’d been stuck with the Dursleys instead. They probably hadn’t even realized it was his birthday.

She shook her head, and made up her mind. A child’s wellbeing was at stake here. No matter the time; she’d wake them up to make sure Harry was alright.

Ms. Anthony slipped on her shoes and marched across the street. She banged on the door of #4, and waited just a moment before doing it again.

“Just a minute!” Petunia’s shrill voice cut through the still morning like a knife. The door opened. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Petunia.” Ms. Anthony pursed her lips, trying very hard not to snap at the woman. “Where is Harry? I noticed he wasn’t with you last night.”

The shrew-like woman sniffed. “Some friends of his parents stopped by. About time too, if you ask me. He’s off with them, on a shopping trip.”

Ms. Anthony raised an eyebrow, the urge to slap the awful woman growing stronger. “Friends of his parents? Do you know this?”

“Oh yes. That man’s quite hard to forget. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“You’re not going anywhere, Petunia, until you answer me. Do you know where Harry is?”

Petunia paused. She knew she’d regret it if she didn’t answer yes, but she didn’t have much choice.

“I assure you, Ava, he’s perfectly fine.”

~§~

“Well, that went over well.” Fabian noted as Susan led Harry back upstairs, presumably to find someone creative way of waking the older teens up. Fabian had suspected that Harry had wanted to watch them do something unscrupulous and undoubtedly illegal to his Muggle relatives—which was why they had Amelia coming too, so they didn’t do anything of the sort.

Amelia watched as the boy was led upstairs. When she had first heard about his abusive relatives, she had been terrified to find out what the poor boy would be like. She was pleasantly shocked to see he was a little small and scrawny, but otherwise completely normal, if seeming a bit shy.

Amelia turned to Gideon. “Is his situation really as bad as you said?”

All three men nodded.

“Kreacher, he went upstairs.” Regulus said as the elf went to throw Harry’s slightly burnt toast in the garbage. “Don’t waste. And for Merlin’s sake, Kreacher, butter it for the boy. I know you don’t like visitors, but please show him some respect. And please send up his potions, as well.” He turned to Amelia. “He saw his parents’ wills yesterday, and Sirius was his godfather. I’m taking over guardianship.”

Amelia shrugged. “Fine. I can have the paperwork delivered to you tomorrow. You realize that Dumbledore’s going to claim guardianship, though?”

Regulus gave a small grimace. “Of course. However, even he can’t go against the Potters’ wills. The people won’t allow it, no matter how much they worship him. It simply wouldn’t be something the leader of the light would do.”

“You do realize you’re Regulus Black? Lord of House Black, and ex-death eater?”

“House Black is Grey Neutral, and there was no evidence of my supposed allegiance to the dark lord. Besides, if anyone causes a problem I can contact the Malfoys. Lucius is always willing to do favors, because he’s absolutely terrified I’ll dissolve his marriage with Narcissa. What those two see in each other, I have no idea.”

“That’s why they married each other, not you.” Fabian said cheekily. Regulus lazily flicked his wand up, sending a small stinging hex towards the Prewett.

“You said you took him to St. Mungo’s for inoculations and block removals? What was the healer’s verdict?” Amelia asked, ignoring Fabian’s antics.

The Prewetts froze.

“Damn it.” Fabian said. “We may have, ah, forgotten the blocks.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Of course you did. Half the reason you went there.”

“We had good reason!” Fabian argued. “Besides, he’s going back in two weeks. We can get it done then.”

“What reason? Never mind. I don’t want to know. When did you get the dog?” Amelia asked, peering into the shadows under the table. A slow wag answered her.

“Ah…Yes.” Regulus answered slowly. “An ugly stray I found on the street last night.” He winced as the dog turned to slobber all over his shoes.

“I see. I don’t suppose you have anything to do with Sirius Black’s sudden disappearance, either? Scrimgeour was not happy when I said I wasn’t coming in today. You’re lucky they somehow think he’s disappeared to Sweden, or there’d be inquiries and Dementors everywhere.”

The dog barked, and wagged its tail harder.

“I can only imagine how he escaped.” Regulus said dryly, causing Fabian to snort. Amelia raised an eyebrow.

“We’ll talk about this later. I have the portkeys you asked for. Surrey, you said?”

“Mmhm.” Gideon said. “Little Winging. Thanks, love.”

“I’m not your love.” She replied icily. “Come on, let’s get going. They’ll be less Muggles about this early.”

~§~

There was a slight popping sound on Privet Drive. Four people appeared suddenly out of thin air, clutching a thin stick, which was quickly dropped.

Regulus looked around and sniffed. “Muggles.” He said disdainfully. “Even their houses are plain and unimaginative.”

His three companions glanced at him, frowning.

“Mr. Black, I ask that you keep your opinions to yourself until we are out of this place.” Amelia said disapprovingly. She had argued long and hard with Gideon about allowing Regulus to come—even after reforming the House of Black, the man still didn’t care for Muggles. If Potter’s relatives truly despised magic as much as the Prewetts had reported, having a Black there _might_ not lead to the calmest and most civilized of discussions.

She led the way to #4. It looked exactly like all the other houses nearby, if not even neater and more boring. Amelia paused, hearing the sound of arguing inside.

“Come on then, let’s knock.” Gideon said impatiently. “Might as well get it over with. Probably fighting over breakfast.”

Amelia stepped up and rapped sharply on the door. The three men lined up behind her. Regulus straitened his features into a deep scowl, and made sure that his wand was within easy reach through his robes.

The door was yanked open with a bang. A tall, stick-thin woman was standing there in a nightgown and slippers, eyes burning in frustration. A short woman with large glasses and long, brown hair was standing a ways behind her, looking just as angry.

“Yes?” The first woman said, barely glancing at them. Then her neck seemed to snap as she twisted to get a second look. “You!”

“Ma’am.” Amelia said calmly. “I am Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” Oh, she really hoped that was the Anthony woman behind Dursley—the obliviators would not be happy to have to come down here to deal with one woman because of her screw up.

“Go away!” Dursley shrieked. “You’re not welcome here!” She tried to slam the door shut, but the shorter woman sprang forward with surprising speed and grabbed it.

“I’m sorry, did I hear you say _magical_ law enforcement?”

“Yes Ma’am, you did. Are you Ava Anthony?” Amelia asked.

“Yes. How do you mean, _magical_? Petunia?”

Dursley turned white.

“Get in here!” She hissed. “People might see you!”

She threw the open door into Anthony, and stormed into the house. Amelia entered behind her, the men following the witch.

“I promise this will make more sense in a moment.” Amelia promised Anthony.

Anthony huffed as she closed the door. “Nothing ever makes sense with these people.”

~§~

Anthony led the way into a quaint living room, where she brushed past Dursley and threw herself on chair. Amelia’s lips twitched as she fought a grin at the Muggle’s non-ladylike manner. She could almost hear Black growling as he entered the room with the rest and stood silently, stiff as a board.

“Mrs. Dursley, I request that your husband be here.” Amelia said firmly. Dursley looked terrified for a moment, then darted out of the room like a frightened rabbit.

“Ms. Anthony.” Amelia said calmly. “As I said, I am Amelia Bones, head of Magical Law Enforcement. I am here to talk with the Dursleys concerning their nephew, Harry Potter. Mr. Potter also requested that we discuss the world of magic with you, and allow you to visit him.”

Anthony sat upright. “Harry? You’ve seen him? He’s alright?”

“Yes. The Prewetts and Mr. Black,” here Amelia gestured behind her, “met him yesterday. He is currently at Black’s house, enjoying time with his cousins.”

“What does—” The Muggle’s eyes widened. “Oh my god. Are you saying Harry—the things he can do—that’s magic?”

In answer, Amelia flicked out her wand and conjured a teapot, which poured hot liquid into a glass sitting on the table. “That is correct, Ms. Anthony. Mr. Potter is a wizard. His parents, Lily and James Potter, were the bravest witch and wizard I have yet to meet. If their son follows in their footsteps, I have no doubt he will be quite powerful.”

“Oh god.” Anthony blinked, and pushed her glasses farther up her nose. “All right. I suppose you’re here about the Dursleys’ behavior?”

“Yes. Mr. Potter’s godfather is Mr. Black’s brother. Harry gave quite a detailed report about both the Dursleys and you, and Black requested I attend this visit.”

“Harry mentioned that no one ever remembered the Dursleys being so horrible to him.” Gideon said. “Is that true?”

Anthony nodded. “Yeah. I called child care about fifty times before giving up.”

Amelia rubbed her temples. “Someone probably used a memory charm. I’ll wager it’s the same person who placed him here.”

Dursley reentered the room, leading a huge, enormously fat man in a dark blue bathrobe. Vernon Dursley grew bright red upon seeing the wizards.

“What are you doing here?” He blustered, his face turning a shade of puce. “This is my house!”

“And this is an ongoing investigation.” Amelia answered fiercely. “Answer my questions and show respect, or you may well find yourselves arrested. By wizards.”

Both Dursleys turned white.

Amelia smiled. “Good. Now, I am Madam Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Behind me are Lords Gideon and Fabian Prewett, and Lord Regulus Black. We are here to discuss your nephew, Mr. Harry Potter.”

The Dursleys looked terrified. “What-what do you mean?” Vernon asked, shaking in fright.

Black stepped forward. Amelia frowned at that, given the man’s distaste for Muggles, but let him pass. It wouldn’t hurt for him to intimidate these two, and Anthony didn’t seem the type to be easily cowed by a few harsh words.

“Mr. Potter is under my guardianship.” Regulus hissed coldly. “My brother’s godson met me yesterday on his shopping trip, and just imagine my surprise when the savior of the wizarding world told me that he had been abused and neglected _by his own relatives_ his entire childhood. I warn you right now, Dursley, as much as your nephew says you hate magic, there are plenty of wizards who hate Muggles just as much, and all it would take is one word for them to hear you’ve caused so much pain to the boy who took down the dark lord. You will treat me and my fellow lords with the proper respect, or I might just turn you into cockroaches.”

Vernon swallowed. “What do you want?”

“Remain silent. You will have nothing more to do with your nephew. You will not leave the country. You will answer all questions asked by Madam Bones and any Aurors regarding your nephew’s situation.”

Amelia stepped in. “Ms. Anthony. Do you have any immediate questions about our world? The Prewetts said Harry was anxious to see you. He read his parents’ wills last night, and is quite shocked. He’ll need someone he can trust.”

Anthony blinked. “Ah—he’s safe?”

“Yes.”

“What’ll happen to the Dursleys? You said it’s an ongoing case?”

“I will send my Aurors—they’re like police—to make a formal investigation for Mr. Potter.”

“Now wait just a minute!” Vernon interrupted. “You can’t do that!”

Black narrowed his eyes, making the Dursleys shrink back. The Prewetts stepped up to either side of him, looking very displeased. Amelia admitted to herself, a little unwillingly, that the three of them made a very intimidating trio.

“Why not?” Gideon asked dangerously.

“He said we’d be safe from you lot!” Vernon said loudly. “That we wouldn’t have to deal with you freaks except when we brought the boy to that blasted school!”

“Who said that?” Amelia asked suspiciously. Gideon and Fabian bristled visibly at the freak comment—she was sure Black was restraining himself from hexing the blasted Muggles.

“The headmaster.” Petunia whimpered from behind her husband. “Dumbledore. He said Potter had to stay here, because of the—the wards.”

Fabian snorted. “What wards?”

Black cursed, and raised his wand. Petunia shrieked, but he only held it up and started muttering an unfamiliar charm. He turned to Amelia. “There’s a faint blood ward designed to keep out anyone with a dark mark—I didn’t even notice it, I’d imagine it’s based more on intent to harm the boy. There’s a strong one to keep out werewolves, a faint wizard repelling charm—which obviously didn’t work—and a very strong tracking charm.”

“What are those?” Anthony asked. “And who put them there? The only other person who’s ever done anything to Harry is Arabella Fig, who lives right down the road, and she’s normal as can be except for her cats.”

The twins turned at the name.

“Arabella Fig?” Gideon said in surprise. “She was in the Order. A squib. Dumbledore must have put her here to keep an eye on Harry.”

“A squib?” Anthony asked, confused.

Petunia shrieked. “But she was his babysitter! She never did anything for the boy!”

Amelia sighed. “Right, I’ll give the Aurors her name as well. To answer your question, miss, a squib is someone without magic who is born into a family of wizards. They’re quite rare, and usually migrate to the Muggle world.”

“What exactly is a Muggle? You keep calling us that.”

“A Muggle is a person without magic.”

“And those charms you mentioned?”

“As Lord Black said, one was too keep out any wizard with intentions to harm Harry. Another was designed to keep werewolves away.” Amelia didn’t tell her how odd it was that there were no other dark creature wards. “Another is a wizard-repelling charm designed to keep fellow wizards out—obviously it hadn’t been reapplied in a while, as we arrived here with no difficulties. The last one was a tracking charm, either to know where Mr. Potter was at all times, or just to know when he left the house.”

Anthony was looking slightly shell-shocked. Amelia idly wondered whether or not she should conjure some brandy for the poor woman.

“Why Harry? I take it this situation isn’t normal in your world if it caught the attention of law enforcement?”

“Harry Potter is a hero in our world.” Amelia answered carefully. There was no need to startle the Muggle woman more than possible. “Several years ago, there was a very dark wizard who terrified everyone so badly that to this day they still call him ‘You-Know-Who’. His actual name—or what he called himself, at least—was Voldemort. He went to kill the Potters one night—no one knows why—and although he managed to kill both James and Lily, something about Harry made the spell backfire, destroying You-Know-Who’s body.”

Anthony blinked. Then she blinked again. “Baby Harry defeated a dark wizard?”

“No one knows how. Some suspect that he is extremely powerful. Others say it was something his parents did. Others think it was simply foolish of You-Know-Who to attack an innocent baby.”

Anthony shook her head as if trying to clear it. “All right. If Harry’s so famous, why did he never know about any of this before?”

The Dursleys cowered as the wizards glared at them.

“He should have.” Black seethed. “Harry is heir to a Most Ancient and Noble House. He should have grown up amongst his own kind, learning our ways, and being properly raised. Due to his fame and heritage, the boy is extremely powerful both politically and financially, and knows nothing about any of it.”

Amelia cleared her throat as Anthony raised an eyebrow at Black’s haughty tone. “The Potters’ wills were unfortunately sealed. Harry was able to access them yesterday, due to his being the last living Potter. It was specifically stated that he never even meet the Dursleys.”

“What?” Vernon barked from his corner. “You mean we never had to take in the boy?”

Gideon flicked his wand up, casting a silencing charm over the two Muggles.

“The entire story is long and complicated, and unfortunately we do not have all of the pieces.” Amelia told Anthony gravely. “However, Harry is an integral part of our world, and so I will warn you of this: wizards are extremely prejudiced when it comes to Muggles and magic. Lord Black is one of the better examples—he dislikes your kind, but tolerates you. There are many others who would treat you as animals, and others as interesting pets. Very few would understand the fact that you are people in your own right.”

Anthony glanced at Black. He said nothing, but the glare was returned.

“There are two parts to wizard government—the Ministry of Magic and the Wizengamot. The Wizengamot is made up mostly of old magical families, who mostly make up laws and gives trials. The ministry follows through on enforcing or fine-tuning those laws. Both the Lords Prewett and Lord Black are on two of the highest seats on the Wizengamot—I am regent for the seat of Bones, and sit as a department head as well. Harry has his own seat, which he inherited from his father.”

Anthony wet her lips. “Harry’s a wizard. And a lord.”

“He’s also very rich.” Fabian supplied helpfully.

“I—I don’t know what to say. I suppose no one came to check on him because of the wards?”

“I’d imagine it had more to do with the squib living here, but the wards certainly would have helped when he was younger. The current opinion is that there is also a mail ward around him, redirecting all of his mail to someone else. Those are highly illegal but also very hard to accomplish.”

“Who could have done it?” Anthony asked suspiciously.

 “Unfortunately, the person we suspect is doing it is not only leader of the Wizengamot and headmaster of our school, he is also Su—leader of the International Confederation of Wizards. He has been in power for many years, took down the previous dark lord by himself, is widely believed to be the leader of the light, and has hundreds of allies everywhere. No matter what he does, the majority of the people will simply believe he can do no wrong. Due to the prejudices and corruption of our world, he will likely never be bothered by legalities.”

“But—how—is Harry safe, at least?” Anthony was beyond shocked now.

“For now. He will go to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with my own niece, the Prewetts’ nephews, and Black’s nephews, all of whom are around Harry’s age. He has already met and befriended them, and so will at least know a few people when he goes there.”

Anthony’s eyebrows popped up again. “Harry made friends?”

“Yes. Last we saw them, Susan was plotting with him to wake up the others. I believe she covered them in peanut butter last time. It will be interesting to see what happened when we get back.”

Anthony shifted and crossed her legs. “What can I do? Will I still be able to see Harry?”

Black stiffened as Amelia glanced at him. “You will come with us.” He answered tensely. “You can stay with Harry until school starts. You will mind your manners, or I will reconsider the invitation.”

“Harry has a lot to learn about our world, and his place in it.” Gideon said, elbowing his friend. “You’re welcome to learn with him. As the Muggle who raised Harry Potter, you’re going to gain a reputation—and quick. We’re probably going to have to stage a press release to make sure the truth of the matter gets out.”

“We’ve been working on making a case against Dumbledore for years.” Fabian added. “What with leaving Harry with the Dursleys, he’s added a ton of fuel to his own fire. We’d appreciate any help you could give us relating to Harry’s previous situation, involving any strange incidents, from his accidental magic to visiting wizards and Mrs. Fig.”

“You shouldn’t have much more to do with the official case against the Dursleys.” Amelia put in her own two Knuts. “But we’ll need to keep in touch until I can be certain.”

“All right.” Anthony said resignedly. “How soon can I see Harry?”

The three wizards glanced at Amelia, who pulled out the second portkey.

“This is a portkey.” She explained to the Muggle. “We touch it, one of us gives the password, and it sends us back to Black’s house.”

“Harry’s there now?” Anthony asked. “Who’s with him?”

“Two of the Prewetts’ nephews, Black’s adopted sons, and my own niece.” Amelia assured her. “Will you come?”

Anthony stood and walked over, staring at the paperweight portkey with a certain amount of apprehension and doubt. “All right. Just touch it?”

The five of them grabbed it. Amelia was sure she wasn’t the only one who was considering hexing the Dursleys before they left—but she was also the one who was there to make sure that didn’t happen.

Black said stiffly, “The Blacks live at #12 Grimmauld Place.” Amelia recognized the familiar tug behind her stomach, and the portkey whisked them away.

~§~

They landed inside the entrance room. Anthony had fallen to her knees the second they landed and was gasping for air, clutching her stomach. Amelia pitied her—she remembered very clearly the first time she had used a portkey. She probably should have warned the woman.

There were screams of laughter coming from upstairs. Gideon and Fabian raced up the steps [either to cause more trouble, or see what was going on], while Black disappeared into the kitchen. Amelia didn’t know what he was doing, but she figured she should stay and help the Muggle.

She helped Anthony to her feet. “This is Grimmauld Place, in London—Lord Black’s home.”

The Muggle looked around, disbelief on her face. “Black lives here?” She asked dubiously. “I was expecting a castle, the way he was acting.”

Amelia laughed. Black often acted high and pompous, though he had admittedly gotten much better over the years. He always got worse around Muggles or people he didn’t like, though. She highly suspected that spending the month with a cynic Muggle would be good for him.

“No.” She told Anthony. “The only castle we have is Hogwarts.”

“Hogwarts?” Anthony raised her eyebrows at Amelia at the name.

“Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” The witch supplied. “It’s in Scotland. Every witch and wizard in Great Britain and Ireland goes there, and has for the past thousand years.”

Anthony gave a low whistle as the sounds of laughter grew above them. “A thousand years. Wow. You know, when you first knocked on the door and announced yourselves as magical law enforcement, I thought you were as loony as the Dursleys. Now, though, I’m not quite sure what to think. It’s so much to take in.” She threw Amelia a glance. “Do you go through this often?”

Amelia shook her head. “For any Muggle-born students—magical students from non-magic families—the professors will introduce them. The Ministry only gets involved in cases like Harry’s—abuse—or in breaks of the Statute of Secrecy.”

“The what of secrecy?”

“The Statute of Secrecy. It was drawn up in 1689, and enacted in 1692. It was made to hide us from the witch hunts. Basically, Muggles are only allowed to know about magic in very certain and specific situations. You’d be amazed at how different our people are after being separated for three hundred years. Anyway, that’s actually what most of the crimes I deal with are.”

“How do you handle people who saw magic?”

Amelia frowned. She wasn’t sure if Anthony would like the answer. “Ah—we send in a team of specially trained people who remove their memories of the incident.”

“What?!” Anthony almost shrieked. “You _remove_ their memories?!”

“They’re completely fine afterwards.” Amelia assured her. “Besides, they’d normally consider themselves mad anyway. This way, they don’t get themselves hurt or locked up. It’s really not that big a thing. And they usually replace the memories with something nice and normal—a shopping trip, or a car accident, or the like.”

Anthony still looked upset, but at the sound of feet thumping down the staircase, she quieted down.

“Ms. Anthony!”

A joyful voice shouted from the stairs as Harry bounced down them, Susan and Fred in tow. Anthony smiled widely as Harry leapt into her arms.

“Ms. Anthony! Did they tell you? I’m a wizard and I don’t have to go to the Dursleys anymore an’ I’m gonna go to school for it and I finally found out about my parents and—”

“Harry!” Susan laughed, thumping him on the shoulder playfully. “Breathe!”

Fred grinned at the two younger kids. “Excited, Harry?”

Anthony laughed. “I know, Harry, they told me. Why don’t you introduce me to your friends?”

“Ok.” Harry nodded happily. “This is Susan Bones and Fred Weasley.” He looked at them for verification. “George, Fred’s brother, is upstairs with Aries and Rigel Black.”

Amelia excused herself to the kitchen, leaving the children to meet the Muggle. Black was pacing in front of the table, a dark scowl on his face.

~§~

“I don’t like it.” Black said as she entered. Amelia wasn’t sure if he was speaking to her, himself, or no one in particular. She didn’t answer, instead simply crossed her arms and waited.

“There is a _Muggle_ in the House of Black.” He said disgustingly. “Only Sirius would sink this low.”

There was a low growl from under the table.

“To make it even worse, a Most Ancient and Noble heir was _kidnapped_ and raised by those—those horrendous—oh, I should have turned them into cockroaches like I promised!”

“And then I would’ve had to arrest you.” Amelia said calmly.

“Bah. I’ll have to redo the Fidelius soon, if we keep this up.”

“You’ll have to do it anyway if you give the boy a welcoming party.” She pointed out.

He glared at her. “Why do you have to be so damn logical? I’m ranting.”

“So I noticed.”

“And I like to do it in peace.”

“Funny, that’s not what the Prewetts said.”

He turned away from her. “I don’t like Muggles.”

“I know. It’s to be expected. Your parents hated them, though. At least you tolerate them. It’s a start.”

“Hmph.”

Amelia had to use all of her political know-how to not laugh at the pouting man. Oh, if only people knew how the intimidating Lord Black was in private…

“Who are you inviting to this welcoming party?” She asked. It was a good idea, but they’d have to do it quickly, before school started.

“I though just about every one of the higher families with children his age. A few others with close connections to the Potters and Blacks. Speaking of, the boy needs proper clothing. Kreacher will get his school supplies later this week, but he wouldn’t know proper clothing to save his life. I don’t suppose…?”

“I don’t have time to get him a whole new wardrobe.” Amelia answered shortly. “I can’t believe you asked that.”

“It’s either you, Narcissa, or Lady Greengrass. I don’t feel comfortable trusting anyone else with the boy.”

“What about Andromeda?”

Black froze. “Andromeda.”

“Yeah. She has a daughter in Hogwarts, doesn’t she? Supposedly she already applied for Auror training. I remember her application clearly—she’s apparently a metamorphmagus.”

He looked thoughtful. “It’s been a while since I spoke to her. But yes…she could do it.”

Amelia nodded in approval. “I’ll leave that to you. I’ll finish up with Anthony, and then I really have to go, or Scrimgeour really will have my hide.”


	6. Guardianship and Other Important Things

It was about ten o’clock when everyone was introduced and settled down. Ms. Anthony and Mr. Black [who had asked Harry to start calling him Uncle Regulus] were still glaring daggers at each other, but no harm was done.

Well, Ms. Anthony was a bit confused when George came down and pretended to be Fred, and Aries and Rigel tricked her into thinking there was only one of them…but all in all it was good. Ms. Anthony had asked Madam Bones how she could handle three sets of identical twins at a time, to which the laughing witch had no answer.

“I suppose you get used to it,” she said. “But if it makes you feel better, Black has to deal with them more than I do.”

Gideon had reminded Harry of the owl which Hagrid had bought for him. Susan led him to the Owlery and showed him how to take care of the bird.

When they came back to the kitchen, Uncle Regulus returned from a Floo call he had been making. He looked rather ruffled, and there was a light flush to his pale face.

He told Harry, who was telling Ms. Anthony about the owl, “I’ve taken the liberty of calling my cousin Andromeda Tonks to take you shopping today for some proper clothing. Her daughter, Nymphadora, might be coming as well. She—”

“At this time?” Fred interrupted.

“You’re joking, right?” Rigel continued.

George agreed, “Tonks never gets up before noon when she doesn’t have to.”

“And don’t call her Nymphadora,” Aries said.

They all finished in unison, “She hates that.”

Everyone stared at them.

“And that,” Susan said finally, “is why twins shouldn’t grow up with other twins.”

“How do you know the Tonks’s so well?” Uncle Regulus asked suspiciously.

“These two figured out she was their cousin,” George answered, throwing his thumb towards the Blacks. “So they got to know her at Hogwarts.”

“Plus, she’s a metamorphmagus,” Fred added reverently.

“A what?” Harry asked, just as Fabian asked, “What does that have do to with anything?”

“A metamorphmagus can change the way they look without magic,” George answered humbly. “Which is brilliant, because she can do pranks and never get caught!”

“Hold on,” Susan said. “I thought Malfoy was your only immediate cousin? Or is this another second cousin five times removed on your mother’s side, fifth cousin twice removed on your father’s, sort of cousin?”

The Black twins looked slightly uncomfortable.

“Andromeda was born a Black,” Uncle Regulus answered. “She was disowned for marrying a Muggle-born, but I welcomed her back when I took over the headship. I haven’t really spoken with her since, however.”

“What’s she like?” Harry asked curiously. “And can Ms. Anthony come too?”

He was surprised when Uncle Regulus scowled deeply in Ms. Anthony’s direction. She ignored him, and turned to Madam Bones.

“Should I, do you think? I didn’t bring anything with me, and everything I have anyway is Muggle.”

“I think that’s a fine idea,” Madam Bones replied cheerfully. “Black?”

It dawned on Harry that the women were teasing his new uncle. He didn’t understand why, though—but then he remembered Gideon saying that Uncle Regulus didn’t appreciate Muggles. That didn’t mean Ms. Anthony though, right? She was so nice and smart, and she had rescued him from the Dursleys.

“Andromeda won’t mind,” Uncle Regulus said stiffly. “However, do try your best not to stand out too much. Most wizards don’t appreciate Muggles poking about the Alley.”

“Would those be the same wizards who have ‘second cousin five times removed on the mother’s side, fifth cousin twice removed on the father’s’, then?” Ms. Anthony asked, raising an eyebrow.

Harry wondered what had happened at the Dursleys. Ms. Anthony usually tried to be somewhat civil, unless someone was unduly mean first. What had Uncle Regulus done? And what was the talk about cousins?

“I—” Uncle Regulus spluttered, his cheeks warming up. “Old pureblood families often prefer to keep magic in the lines. Because there are only so many truly pure families left, most are related by either blood, marriage, or both.”

“And what about you?” Ms. Anthony asked sweetly.

Harry watched as Uncle Regulus snapped his mouth shut, his pale cheeks flushing lightly again.

“He’s his own third cousin,” Fabian said cheerfully. “And people wonder why the Blacks are known for inheriting madness.”

“You know, this is stuff that Harry really should have learned growing up,” Madam Bones said. “Shall we start now?”

“Sure,” Harry answered dutifully as Ms. Anthony gave him an impish look. He didn’t know what she was doing, but she obviously had it out for Uncle Regulus.

“All right,” Madam Bones said, her lips twitching as she tried to hold back a grin. “Let’s start simple. Black’s parents were second cousins; they even had the same last name. Not that that’s too uncommon. He’s first cousins once removed by marriage with the Prewetts—his aunt Lucretia married their uncle Ignatius. He’s first cousins twice removed with Fred and George’s father, Arthur, because Black’s first cousin once removed, Cedrella, married Septimus Weasley—and was disowned for it, by the way. You’re my second cousin…and I’m pretty sure that covers the basics for now.”

Ms. Anthony’s eyes widened as Harry’s jaw dropped.

“H-how is that possible?” he asked shakily.

The wizards in the room only grimaced.

“Let’s just say that between arranged marriages, blood purity, a small community, and love potions—anything is possible,” Gideon said.

“Am I related to any of you? Besides Madam Bones?”

Uncle Regulus answered, “Yes. Your aunt by marriage, Dorea Potter, was my great aunt. There’s also a few Blacks in your line, but they’re far up. I think the last one direct to you was five generations or so back. You’re related to the Prewetts somehow too, but it’s far back enough I can’t quite remember.”

Harry’s eyes lit up. He had family? Real, actual, magical family? That was great! He—wait a minute.

“If my aunt was a Black…and some of my great-something grandparents…” he said warily.

“Oh yeah, kid,” Fabian said with a laugh. “You’re related to just about every pureblood wizard out there. Welcome to the family.”

Harry swallowed uncomfortably. If he was related to all those people…did they really count as family, or just relatives? The Dursleys sure weren’t his family, even if he was related to them.

“Question,” Ms. Anthony, looking a tad green, cut in.

“Yeah?”

“Can we hear more about the dark wizard Harry supposedly defeated?”

Everyone stiffened. Harry shrugged when Ms. Anthony looked at him questioningly. He had realized yesterday and this morning that people, even ones like the Prewetts, who weren’t afraid to say Voldemort’s names, didn’t really like talking about the war.

“Voldemort appeared in the mid-sixties. No one has any idea where he came from, or who he really is, but he claims to be the heir of Slytherin, one of the founders of Hogwarts,” Gideon said. “He’s extremely powerful, and hates Muggles with a passion. Most people originally joined up with him because he advertised blood purity and magical supremacy.”

“What he actually did,” Fabian continued, “was attack and torture anyone, Muggle or magic, who openly defied him and his rules. Everyone learned the hard way that he wanted to rule the world, and didn’t care about the old traditions.”

“People stayed quiet. It was terrifying; you couldn’t trust anyone, not even your family. There were spells and potions that could be used to control or imitate people—completely illegal, but Voldemort didn’t care. He could force someone to slaughter their own family if he wanted to.”

“Most people ran when they could, but he realized pretty quickly what they were doing and stopped it. He had control of most of the Ministry, and was at the height of his power.”

“One night, he attacked the Potters. He killed Lily and James, but his the killing curse seemed to backfire when he used it on Harry. When we went to St. Mungo’s—the wizard hospital—it turned out the scar was because there was a bit of the curse lingering in Harry’s head.”

“You can see it’s fading now.” To everyone’s surprise [except Gideon and Fabian’s], the scar was indeed fading. There was only a pale pink line where before it had been a deep, dark red.

“Anyway,” Fabian continued. “Only Harry survived the encounter, but somehow news got out and everyone started making theories.”

“Point is, though,” Gideon said darkly, “Harry’s a hero, one way or another. Whether it was his parents or him, the world is safe from that lunatic.”

“I—I don’t know what to say,” Ms. Anthony said, shocked.

Harry nodded mutely.

“What about his followers?” she asked tentatively.

Everyone stiffened again.

“Some ran as early as they could, once they realized what he was,” Madam Bones answered quietly. “Most stayed with him out of fear, but returned to normal life after he fell. Most, though,” she scowled angrily, “stayed loyal to him and just turned tail, but they’ll go back to his side if he comes back.”

“I thought you said he was dead?” Ms. Anthony asked, alarmed.

“We don’t know,” Uncle Regulus answered grimly. “He was definitely banished from his body, but there’s magic—dark magic—that can tie his soul to the earth. We think he made several of these anchors.”

Gideon, Fabian, and Madam Bones all snapped their heads around to stare at him. A surprised growl was heard from under the table. Uncle Regulus tossed a muttered ‘shut up’ to the dog.

“We’d decided not to tell anyone until we knew for sure,” Gideon said slowly, still looking at Uncle Regulus. “And even then we might not. If people think there’s a chance he could come back…”

“There’d be a mass panic across the country,” Madam Bones finished, realization crossing her face.

“What would cause a panic? Oh, hello everyone.” Someone had entered the kitchen, making the room officially full.

Everyone jumped.

“Andromeda!” Uncle Regulus seemed relieved. “Fantastic. Would you mind taking his Muggle friend as well?”

“Of course not.” Andromeda Tonks had light brown hair and warm brown eyes. Her back was straight and tall, and she carried herself with sort of regal bearing. She smiled warmly at Harry and Ms. Anthony. “I’m Andromeda Tonks. It is an honor to meet both of you. Please, call me Andromeda. Or Aunt, if you’d like, Mr. Potter. We are, after all, related, although distantly.”

“Harry Potter.” Harry said, offering his hand, which she shook. “You can call me Harry.”

“Ava Anthony,” Ms. Anthony offered.

“Wonderful. You’re both coming with? That won’t be a problem.” She looked curiously at Ms. Anthony for a moment. “Regulus mentioned you raised him? Never mind—not my business. My daughter won’t be able to come with us, I am afraid.”

The four teens snorted at that.

“Still sleeping, I’ll wager,” Fred muttered.

“How long do you imagine you’ll be gone?” Uncle Regulus asked.

Aunt Andromeda titled her head as she thought. “Before dark. Probably around seven. I imagine we’ll have to get him a full wardrobe, and Miss Anthony will need several sets of robes as well. You mentioned a trip to an optometrist, and of course he’ll need a trunk to carry it all. Make that four, perhaps five stops. More, since we’ll be needing lunch.”

“Sounds fine,” Gideon said with a shrug. “Regulus? Forgetting something?”

Uncle Regulus blinked. “Oh yes!” He reached into his robes and started searching through his pockets. “One moment, Andi…”

“Don’t call me that,” Aunt Andromeda said with a very calm but cold voice.

“Here!” Harry and Ms. Anthony watched in confusion as Uncle Regulus pulled out a small black card about three inches square. “It has about a thousand galleons on it—do please try not to use it all in one store, cousin.”

Harry’s eyes widened as he heard the amount. A thousand galleons for a shopping trip?

“What’s the card do?” he asked curiously.

“It holds a certain amount of credible money on it.” Aunt Andromeda explained. “It works exceptionally well for large purchases, so you don’t have to carry around a large bag of money.”

“It works like a Muggle credit card,” Fabian explained to Ms. Anthony.

“Oh.” She nodded her head. “I see.” She paused. “May I ask why the two of you seem so familiar with my world, and the others not?”

Aunt Andromeda and all the children looked slightly baffled at this insightful observation, while the other adults seemed to realize the confusion.

Madam Bones let out a laugh. “These two were determined to learn everything they could about Muggles after they caught their brother-in-law asking a Muggle-born about the use of rubber ducks.”

“Rubber ducks?”

“You don’t want to know,” Gideon said. “Anyway, we’ll be out on business for most of the day ourselves, and Amelia needs to go too. Anything else you lot need?”

Harry realized they would be leaving soon, and asked Uncle Regulus, “Why are you paying for the trip? I could—”

“No,” the older man interrupted, causing Harry to stop midsentence with his mouth hanging open. “You’re as much as my ward as Aries or Rigel. If you see a toy or book that you like, I will expect you to use your own money for that, but not for clothes or school supplies.”

“But—” Harry didn’t know what to say. Ms. Anthony had been the only person to ever care for him or get him things, but that was ok because he knew her. Uncle Regulus had only known him for a day, and he was willing to pay a thousand galleons for a shopping trip? The Prewetts had mentioned that the Blacks were rich, but it still didn’t feel right. Harry could pay for his own things—he didn’t need charity.

“Harry,” Ms. Anthony reprimanded. “He’s supposed to do that. He’s your guardian now.”

Oh. Harry had forgotten that. Uncle Regulus was taking care of him because he was expected to, so he was making sure to do a good job of it. Well. If he was supposed to, Harry supposed it was ok.

It was what the Dursleys were meant to do, and didn’t, after all. Harry just needed a little time to realize that it wasn’t only Ms. Anthony who was taking care of him now.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, lowering his eyes.

Uncle Regulus nodded once, seeming to understand. “If that’s all, we’d better go our own ways. Bones, I’d appreciate having you with us today, if you don’t mind.”

Madam Bones raised an eyebrow. “Again?”

“Preferably.”

She sighed. “Exactly how many times have I stopped you three being arrested?”

He spread his hands innocently. “It’s not me I’m worried about, Bones.”

The Prewetts looked up. “Oi!”

“What will you do with the other kids?” Ms. Anthony wondered.

Fabian brushed the question aside. “Fred and George’ll head home to their parents, Aries and Rigel will go to their cousins, and Susan’ll go to her friend’s house. The Malfoy kid is a brat, but he doesn’t bother them any, and the Abbotts are nice folk. They’re used to the four of us going off together.”

Aunt Andromeda clapped her hands together excitedly. “Well then. We’d best be off, or we’ll run out of time. Shall we?”

~§~

Regulus needed to talk with Regent Longbottom about Harry. Obviously the boy was under his guardianship, what with Sirius being his sworn godfather, but the Longbottoms had an equal say with Alice being his godmother.

He hoped that, with the twins and Bones there, she’d be reasonable about talking with him.

Augusta Longbottom had not spoken with the House of Black since Bellatrix and the Lestranges tortured her son and daughter-in-law into insanity.

“So…” Gideon said. “You sent Kreacher over to the Longbottoms last night saying you wanted to meet to talk about Harry.”

“Yes,” Regulus agreed. He was hopeful for input from his clever friends. Input which would hopefully make this talk much easier.

He had of course sent Regent Longbottom half of the seized Lestrange vaults in compensation for what had happened, but there was still an odd feeling in his stomach whenever the Longbottoms were mentioned. Gideon and Fabian insisted that it was completely normal to feel horrified and guilty at the situation. After all, that could have been him, being tortured or doing the torturing, who knew? But Regulus didn’t think that was it.

He had turned away from that path early. He was never going back.

So why was he so nervous?

~§~

Augusta May Longbottom nee McMillan, Regent to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom, Ally of the Light, was waiting.

Last night she had received a notice from a [very old and decrepit] house elf that the Lord Black would be arriving sometime around eleven o’clock with the Lords Prewett and Regent Bones to discuss the matter of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter, heir to the Lost House of Peverell, ward of the House of Dumbledore.

She quite honestly had no idea as to why those four would be interested in Heir Potter so much as to ask an audience of her. Nor did she have any idea why they would wish to speak with _her_.

She, however, was a proper pureblood with excellent manners, and therefore would accept them and see what they wanted.

Her grandson, however, was not as happy about it.

“But Gran! Black—”

“Lord Black, Neville.”

“Lord Black was Be—Bel—her cousin!”

Augusta sadly gazed at the young boy before her. Her grandson had lost his parents at such a young age, only to wonder for years if he had any magic at all. It was shock enough to be dropped out of a window, and it was only by Merlin’s good will that the boy was so overjoyed at having magic that he never even wondered about his great uncle’s dubious act.

Honestly, she thought angrily. Unspeakable or otherwise, if she caught Algernon Croaker doing something like that ever again…

And of course, Neville was too young to understand anything more about Lord Black then that it was his cousin who took Neville’s parents.

“Neville, I need you to understand something, so pay close attention.”

“Yes Gran.”

“Lord Black may be related to Bellatrix No-Name genetically, but the minute he found out about Frank and Alice he not only dissolved her marriage, but disowned her as well. You do remember what that means, don’t you?”

Neville nodded, looking a little shocked. Good. She didn’t want any animosity between the House of Longbottom and the House of Black. Granted, she had at first had qualms about Lord Black adopting the Lestrange twins, but they had grown up to be very nice and proper lads, so she had heard, not at all like either of their parents.

“I want you to be very polite, Neville. The House of Longbottom cannot afford to start a feud with the House of Black.”

“I understand, gran.”

“Good. They should be here any moment now, so straighten your sleeves. Good lad. Now come.”

~§~

Fabian really hoped Regulus knew what he was doing.

Yes, legally he had to inform Regent Longbottom about Harry, since she had just as much legal control over him as Regulus did, but he didn’t see why they couldn’t use a sneaky Slytherin/Ravenclaw way to undermine that. The Longbottoms were a light family! What if Augusta turned Harry over to Dumbledore?

They shouldn’t risk it.

And yet they were.

Why? Because Regulus obviously had some sneaky plan cooked up. Like he had a sneaky plan for hiding a wanted criminal in his kitchen.

Yes, Fabian thought darkly. Sneaky Slytherin plans indeed. Regulus was apparently thinking up moves as he went along, and that was not smart.

It was things like that which would give Dumbledore an opening into all their hard work. That was the very last thing they needed right now, just when things were finally moving along.

Still, though, he had to wonder; what was Dumbledore playing at? His plans had no real predictability, no motivation behind them. And yet he obviously had _something_ he wanted, or he wouldn’t have tried so hard to kill everyone in the Order, or endanger the Potters, or control Harry!

Fabian had no idea what Dumbledore had intended to accomplish by leaving the Potter Heir with the Dursleys. They’d have to talk to Zipnip—maybe the old bastard had tried to get to the Potter fortune?

Oooooh, Fabian hoped so. Then they could really nail him.

~§~

Regulus tumbled gracefully out of the Floo, the twins and Bones following close behind him.

He stood up and dusted himself off before facing his host. He smiled, though his stomach still felt odd.

“Regent Longbottom,” he said, bowing respectfully, ignoring the ever-present vulture hat. He turned to the boy—Neville, he thought—who was sitting stick-straight next to his grandmother on the couch, looking absolutely terrified. “Heir Longbottom.” He nodded cordially to the boy.

“Lord Black,” Regent Longbottom said regally, regarding him curiously. “Lords Prewett. Regent Bones.”

“Please, ma’am. Call me Regulus today—I come with good news.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Very well. Would you and your companions please sit? Perhaps I could offer you something to drink. We have tea and milk.”

“Tea for all of us, please,” he replied, seating himself directly across from her. Gideon and Fabian sat on either side of him—like bodyguards, he thought idly—while Bones sat on his far left, nearest the heir.

A house elf appeared laden down with a tray of tea cups. After they all took one and drank, Regulus having thanked the elf quietly, Longbottom looked at him expectantly.

“You said you have good news, Regulus?”

He sipped at his tea. “Indeed, ma’am.”

“About Harry Potter, I presume?”

“Indeed.”

“What is it?”

He hid a smile. She was direct and straight to the point—he liked that. “There is much to discuss, but I shall tell you the important part first. It has recently been discovered that Heir Potter’s sworn godparents were Alice Longbottom and Sirius Black.”

There was a moment of shocked silence.

“Beg pardon?” Longbottom asked, shocked.

“You and I have guardianship over Harry Potter,” Regulus answered gravely. “I had hoped we could come to a suitable compromise.”

She blinked several times, and then recomposed herself. “Yes. I do hope so as well. Sirius Black was his sworn godfather?”

Regulus raised an eyebrow. “He never did get that trial.”

She frowned. “Indeed not. And now he’s escaped—poor man, I truly cannot blame him.”

Bones leaned forward slightly. “The Auror reports say that he was caught talking about Sweden. There is plenty of opportunity for a trial, now, since he was clearly unable to send Voldemort after Harry.”

Neville gasped at the name, but Longbottom just smiled thinly. “Good. Now, I assume you have met the boy?”

“Yes. He spent the night, and is now shopping with my cousin Andromeda. However, there is bad news to bitter the good.”

She frowned. “What?”

Gideon answered. “Dumbledore—illegally—placed him with his horrid Muggle relatives…”

~§~

Harry was having fun, which he supposed was strange, since he was shopping with two women.

Aunt Andromeda had quickly explained the purposes of Floo travel to Ms. Anthony, who had thought the idea absolutely wonderful. She had then led them to a supposedly high-end shop called Twilfitt and Tatting’s in Diagon Alley.

Twilfitt and Tatting’s was a large, quiet shop with huge windows and dark wooden walls. It was well lit, but some of the corners were still dim, and it was impossible to see into the number of rooms leading off the side. The shop itself was stuffed full of racks and racks of robes of all sorts and sizes; long robes, short robes, dark, bright, black robes, white robes, and robes every color of the rainbow. There were capes and cloaks and hats—oh, the hats! Harry saw one with a kitten on it that sat up and meowed!—and purses and so many things to look at!

Aunt Andromeda quickly pulled them over to the sales counter and asked the lady there for Madam Tatting. A young girl about twenty came out immediately.

“Mrs. Tonks!” she said, clapping her hands delightedly. “What can I do for you today?”

Aunt Andromeda motioned to Harry and Ms. Anthony. “We need two complete wardrobes, one woman’s and one heir’s,” she said.

The girl became even more excited, not even noticing Harry’s scar or Ms. Anthony’s Muggle attire. “Oh, I know just the thing!”

She quickly led them into one of the side rooms, where they stayed for hours trying on all sorts of clothes. The attendants would bring in different things, and critique how it looked.

Ms. Anthony was not usually very find of shopping, and Harry had never even had the chance. Aunt Andromeda finalized the decisions of the shop girls and Madam Tatting, accepting some and discarding others, until they each had a towering pile.

“It’s very important that Harry look the part of an heir,” she told them. “People will look at him and expect to see someone who’s used to being a famous hero with a lot of money and prestige. If you show up in anything less than they expect, they’ll be forming opinions of you which we don’t want. I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if you showed up at Hogwarts in ratty Muggle clothes!”

Hours later both of them had about three dozen robes each, varying from casual to dress, several capes and cloaks, and two small bags which Aunt Andromeda had bought from a neighboring shop called Stowe and Packers Magical Bags. Harry thought they must have been bigger on the inside, because they fit everything into them with no difficulty. He was about to stick his head into one to see how big it was, but Aunt Andromeda pulled him to the Floo.

“Occult’s Optometrist is all the way down the Alley, so it’ll be quicker just to Floo. Then, of course, school robes, and a wand.”

~§~

Regent Longbottom looked completely flabbergasted, and Gideon didn’t blame her one bit. Even after living through it and seeing it all happen personally, it was still hard to take in.

“Heir Potter was abused by his relatives, his true lineage hidden from him, and welcomed to our world by Rubeus Hagrid, the half-giant?”

“And saved by a Muggle,” Fabian added unhelpfully.

Longbottom looked at Amelia. “I assume the legalities are being dealt with?”

“That’s correct,” Amelia said. Gideon tried to pay attention to the conversation, but she was sitting with her legs crossed again, and her robes fit against her curves so beautifully…

Concentrate, he chided himself. Merlin’s ruddy wand, he felt like a schoolboy. Eighteen years of asking, and she’d never said yes. Gideon didn’t want to admit it, but Amelia would never be anything other than his friend.

Regulus nudged him subtly, forcing Gideon to snap out of his thoughts. “Will weekends work?” his friend was asking.

“I think that will do just fine. Neville will enjoy the company, and we certainly have the room. I’ll even accept that Muggle you mentioned; Anthony, was it? They’ll both have to learn our customs. Might as well teach them together.”

“Harry will also need to start on his tutoring. It’s too late for beginner potions, but he can start on Latin, history, and basic theory. Genealogy as well.”

Gideon blinked. That was a lot of work for one month, especially as everyone would be bouncing back and forth from Wizengamot meetings and the upcoming welcoming party.

“Did you have anyone in mind?”

“Andromeda has a daughter in Hufflepuff entering her seventh year who intends to become an Auror. I hoped she would be willing to tutor him during the school year, as well. I also expect my nephews to assist, should he need it.”

Regent Longbottom nodded. “Very well. That will work splendidly. How were you planning on announcing his return?”

Regulus was more relaxed than he had been when they first Flooed in, although Gideon doubted anyone other than he and Fabian noticed. “I was thinking something along the lines of a Welcoming Party. Nothing too fancy—wouldn’t want to scare the boy, after all—perhaps just invite the families with children around his age. Perhaps the Minister.”

“I see.” Regent Longbottom pursed her lips. “Where shall it be held? Here, or at the Black Home?”

Gideon perked up. If the Longbottoms were willing to hold it here, then they wouldn’t have to reset the wards on Grimmauld place. He lightly kicked Regulus, who was apparently thinking the same thing.

“Holding it here would be wonderful, Regent. I am afraid my home is not the most welcoming place for such a party.”

The Regent’s eyes glittered with amusement. “I see. Very well, then. Shall I make the invitations as well?”

“If you would.”

“Excellent. Heir Potter shall be here this weekend, then?”

“I shall have him Floo over Saturday, if you wish.”

“That would be fine. Around ten?”

Gideon, who was widely considered to be the _slightly_ more mature of the twins, was really trying very hard to pay attention. However, small talk was never his strong suit, not even after Regulus’ long (very, very long) lessons on basic etiquette. The Prewetts’ mother, Lady Ginevra Prewett nee MacMillan, had usually caved to their childish demands and let them run about the Folly instead of doing their lessons, and Gideon had always been bored silly about this sort of thing.

Fabian appeared to be nodding off. Come to think of it, so did Neville. Apparently Fabian’s skill of napping while sitting upright was more common than his brother had thought. Gideon’s lips twitched as he watched the two of them. Longbottom was sure to be furious if she caught her grandson like that—Amelia and Regulus, while still upset, were used to Fabian.

“If I may?” Gideon, positive Regulus was wrapping up the guardianship issues, interrupted the conversation. There were other things he wished to discuss.

Regulus glared at him.

“Yes, Lord Prewett?” Regent Longbottom waved him on.

Gideon quickly glanced over at his still dozing twin. “There were a few other things we were concerned about on Harry’s—Heir Potter’s behalf.”

She pursed her lips. “I see. What would those be?”

“We think there may be a mail-redirection ward on him,” Gideon said. “Also, there’s the matter of the press and Dumbledore.”

Amelia stepped in. “I can look into the mail, of course.”

“Naturally,” Regent Longbottom said. “As for us sending letters to the boy, it appears we shall simply have to mail them to his place of residence, or someone who can hand them off. For the press, I recommend making sure that Skeeter woman stays far away. As for Dumbledore—”

“Hold on just a moment,” Regulus said. “Skeeter writes scandals to pay well, but scandals or not, everyone reads her.”

“Oh…” Gideon didn’t know where his friend was going with the thought, but Amelia gasped in recognition. “You can’t be suggesting you hire her full time?”

Regent Longbottom looked impressed. “That is actually a good idea. Expensive and risky, but a good plan.”

Regulus looked relieved. “You agree to it, then?”

“I do. We shall have to speak with the boy so he understands exactly what to say. We’ll have to owl Skeeter and meet soon. Will you handle that?”

“I’ll do it today and inform you of what happens.”

“Excellent. Now, Dumbledore: the man is a narcissistic imbecile, but Albus is no fool. Do you have any idea, any at all, why he is so interested in Heir Potter? The man can’t be infatuated simply because he’s the boy-who-lived.”

“No. No, he can’t be,” Regulus said, frowning deeply. “There must be something else. I can ask around, see if anyone knows anything.”

Regent Longbottom nodded. “Very well. I can do the same, of course. I assume he will try to take over custody of the boy—I’d rather like to be present during that conversation, if you don’t mind. It will no doubt be amusing. Neville!”

The boy jumped. “Yes Gran! Er…”

She huffed. “Neville, Harry Potter is your god-brother, and he’s going to be living here during the weekends. I’ll tell you everything later, since you felt it was appropriate to nap during our discussion.”

The boy’s round face turned pink.

“Regent Longbottom, don’t bother your heir on our account—he wasn’t the only one.” Regulus slipped his wand out and cast a stinging hex at Fabian, who woke with a yelp and crashed to the floor, knocking over a side table in the process.

Regent Longbottom sniffed snobbishly, but the corner of her mouth was twitching. “Yes, well. Shall we go to Gringotts?”

~§~

Gringotts looked exactly as it had the night before, Gideon thought, if a bit brighter from the sunlight filtering in. Even the goblins at the doors looked the same. The five of them strolled in (Neville had stayed home), still brushing off soot from the Leaky’s Floo.

Zipnip barely glanced up as they were ushered into his office. “Lords Prewett, Lord Black, Regent Bones, Regent Longbottom. To what do I owe this honor?”

Gideon sat down with a thump in the offered chair, leaving the others to conjure their own. “We’re here about Harry’s vaults.”

“I see. Lord Black and Regent Longbottom, is this true?”

Regulus nodded stiffly.

“Very well. I unfroze the accounts last night and have been going through them all day. They are…disappointing.”

Amelia’s eyes widened. “Why? Did Dumbledore try to embezzle?”

The goblin harrumphed. “No, Regent. He did not.”

Fabian muttered a curse under his breath.

Gideon frowned, silently agreeing with his brother’s assessment. “If Dumbledore hasn’t done anything with the vaults, we can’t accuse him of stealing, embezzling, or anything else, which is a right shame. That would’ve given us plenty of right to get him off the Wizengamot, at least.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Regulus said, scooting his chair forward so he was level with Gideon. “Might we see the accounts?”

Zipnip passed the file he was holding to Regulus, who read it, frowned, and passed it to regent Longbottom, who also frowned before handing it off to Amelia. This process continued until Gideon finally had it.

“So,” he said after a bit. “The Potters are rich, but most of it—what does this mean? It’s in assets, right? Not galleons.”

“You’re quite right,” the goblin said. “They own five a total of five houses, two of which they gave away in their will; one of those was turned into a war memorial by the Ministry. That leaves them with the Wheel, Potter Retreat, and Lily’s Flower.”

Everyone blinked at the name.

“It used to be Sweet’s Retreat, but James Potter renamed it,” Zipnip explained. “They have several stocks in popular—and successful—Quidditch teams and a few shops, mostly in Diagon Alley, a few on Horizant, two in Vertic, and one in Hogsmeade. Carkitt Market has a few, as well, as you can see. A share in _the Daily Prophet_ , also, but only 2 percent.”

“And the boy’s trust fund?” Longbottom asked.

“Quite fine, quite fine. Two thousand nine hundred ninety-nine galleons, sixteen sickles, and twenty-eight nuts.”

There was a pause.

“Potter always did like specifics,” Fabian noted.

Longbottom asked, “Anything else we should know about?”

The goblin shuffled through a few papers. “If Lord Black and Regent Longbottom would sign here, here, and here, please. Just proper guardianship papers to send to the Ministry. It is things like this which make Madame Bones’ job easier.” The goblin smiled, showing off his crooked teeth.

“Thank you,” Amelia replied curtly. “What about the will?”

“It was read last night.”

“Stop being difficult,” Regulus snapped. “Why don’t you—”

“Regulus!” Gideon frowned at his friend. “Settle. Zipnip, did you execute the wills?”

“Not yet. Invitations have to be sent to certain people to come to an official will reading. Both Potters also wrote some letters to be released into the hands of the addressee after their deaths. I sent the latter but not the former. You will have to have a reading before September first.”

“Yes, I know,” Regulus, his ire having vanished, rested his chin on his hand. “Regent? How about…the eighth?”

Longbottom pursed her lips again. The vulture wobbled as she nodded. “Yes, that will do. That will do. Anything else? Has the condition of the lands been checked? Any house elves?”

Zipnip checked his notes. “I can send in teams to cleanse the lands of any dark magics and check on the conditions while they’re there. As far as I can tell, the Potters’ last house elf was killed during the Death Eater raid which killed Susan and Godric Potter.”

Longbottom harrumphed. “Fine. Regulus? Would you send in a team, or would you go yourself?”

Regulus was quiet for a moment. “I say send in a team to check the condition and remove anything too dangerous. However, I’d like William Weasley to be one of the members.”

The goblin frowned. “Mr. Weasley, eh? Well, I seem to recall that name. Curse breaker, is he? I’ll see what I can do.”

Gideon nodded graciously. “Thank you, Accountant. Your help is most appreciated.” By some, anyway.

“Hmmm.” The goblin didn’t seem so sure. “What about alliances?”

Everyone froze.

Zipnip continued. “Black and Longbottom should ally if they’re sharing a ward. And if you ask me, it’s about time Bones allied itself to Prewett and Black. I do read the news, you know.”

Amelia coughed. “Yes, well…”

“Well get on it with then!” Longbottom demanded. “Come on now, the beast’s got a point. I, Regent Longbottom, do hereby declare the House of Longbottom allied with the Houses Black, Prewett, and Bones.” She noticed the odd looks. “Oh, don’t give me that. If one comes, the other two are soon to follow. Go on, now.”

And so the Prewett/Black alliance gained two more.

~§~

Buried deep in the cold, draft-filled dungeons as usual, Severus Snape was busy scribbling in a potions textbook. All was ready for those dunderheaded students to arrive in a month, and the hospital wing didn’t need any more potions, or so Pomfrey had told him. He was therefore taking some time to himself to enjoy trying to better the recipe for the babbling draught and its antidote.

The Weasley twins had taken it upon themselves to dose everyone in the school with said potion last term, never mind that it was a third year spell and technically a year above them. All the same, Severus did not enjoy babbling nonsense—even if it had been for only a few moments until he sipped down the antidote. He was trying to be more prepared.

A large tawny owl flew into the windowless room and landed next to his elbows on the desk, barely missing the inkpot.

“What are you doing here?” Severus challenged. “Go to the Owlery and wait. I’m busy.”

The bird didn’t budge.

“Go on, shoo! Get out of here, beast!”

The bird dropped a letter onto the desk and took off.

Severus peeked down at the letter—not out of curiosity. No, not that—paranoia. Not curiosity.

The penmanship was awfully familiar…

He dropped the book and the quill and ripped open the letter. Moments later, paler than any ghost in the castle, he whispered, “That bastard.”

~§~

In a little rundown shack off the coast of Whales, Remus Lupin was curled up trying to read a battered old charms book. He was absolutely miserable, hungry, and even less lucky than usual. It had been three months since he’d last had a job. He couldn’t get one in the wizarding world, obviously, nor did he have the credentials for one in the Muggle world.

Maybe he could try and become a librarian or something. A shop worker? Something, at least. Again.

A small, fluffy brown owl darted through one of the broken windows. It landed on his head and fell off onto his book.

He gently picked the poor thing up and accepted the letter.

The poor little owl was dropped to the floor as Remus finished the letter and growled, a deep, primal sound which caused the poor owl to collapse into a dead faint.

“Must get cleaned,” Remus muttered, not noticing the owl. “Must talk to someone about this…no, I’ll just go.”

~§~

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore pondered the unfortunate news which had been told to him.

It seemed that Hagrid had left young Harry Potter in the eager hands of the Prewetts and Blacks. That went against all his plans! Harry was supposed to realize the true danger and evil cunning of Slytherins from Hagrid, so that he would be safe from any Death Eaters, like Black.

Of course, Harry would never be in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, but he simply had to keep the boy out of Slytherin.

Then again, even if he was in Gryffindor, a day with the Prewetts would be enough to unravel all his carefully-laid plans. Dumbledore sighed regretfully and sucked on a lemon drop. Fawkes crooned in the background.

Gideon and Fabian Prewett. There had been such hope for those two. Then, of course, they had gotten hooked up with Bones. That couldn’t be allowed, so Dumbledore had arranged a little accident to occur. The Prewetts had survived, but the harm was fixed.

Until they had allied themselves with the dark, that is. Dumbledore was certain that Black had managed to convince them both to become Death Eaters. Bones wasn’t, of course, but she was still far too close with those two—three, now—for comfort.

Molly Weasley had raised the young twins, Fred and George, quite well, but not well enough. They were far too close to the Prewetts for his liking. And of course, there was the matter of the Lestrange/Black twins. They reminded him far too much of Tom Riddle—kind, charming, well learned, and clever. He had to make sure they didn’t go down that path, but he feared he was much too late.

He hadn’t liked leaving Harry with the Dursleys—they were truly horrible people, but he had hoped that they would be kind enough to family.

The reports he had received from Arabella Fig had thrown that hope in the mud and stomped on it like one would a month old pastry when one had a sweet tooth. Then came that delightful little Muggle lady, the harmless, caring librarian. Arabella had said that she made sure Harry was well fed and loved, and so the boy at least had one person to truly rely on.

And Muggles were easy to convince of certain matters, if things went wrong. He just had to keep her from the Prewetts and Black until Harry was firmly under his guidance.

After all, he was Albus Dumbledore, Defeater of Grindelwald, Leader of the Light, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, Headmaster of Hogwarts. All he did was for the greater Good.

He was always right.


End file.
